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BY THE O'BYRNES 







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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: 



To 
THE KINDEST OF ALMA MATERS 

LAUREL HILL 
ACADEMY 

SUSQUEHANNA 

PENNSYLVANIA 

This Little Volume is Affectionately Dedicated 
On the Occasion of Her 

GOLDEN JUBILEE 

MCMX 



By 

Her Devoted Children 

THE AUTHORS 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

by 

THE O'BYRNES,^^ 

'i 

with a Preface by 

Reverend Peter C. Winters, A. M. 



" Betimes 
The grandest songs depart 
While the gentle, humble, and low-toned?rhymes 
Will echo from heart to heart." 



Published by 

The Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart 

of Mary 



316 Wyoming Avenue 
SCRANTON, PENNA. 



The Scranton Truth Publishing Co, 
Printers 






PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROBATION OF 

RT. REV. MICHAEL JOHN HOBAN, D. D. 

BISHOP OF SCRANTON 



COPYP'C-HT, 1909 
BY 

THE SISTERS. SERVANTS OP THE IMMACULATE HEART OP MARY 



ICI.A253 



CONTENTS 



Page. 

The Golden Jubilee of Laurel Hill Academy .... 1 

"Out Home" .... 4 

Old St. Joseph's 6 

The Visit of the King 8 

Silver Lake 11 

In Memoriam 13 

The Voice of the Harp 15 

The Green-Meadow Farm 17 

The Old Friendsville Church 19 

The Monstrance 22 

A Prayerful Wish 24 

The Old North Branch 26 

The Letter From Home 28 

The Ordination 31 

Christmas Without Mother 33 

The Savings Bank 35 

In Memory of Mother Mary 4$ 

The Church of St. Philomena, Hawley 45 

The Nine First Fridays 47 

Our Loss, His Gain 5 3 

St. Martin of Tours 55 

To Mother 57 

The Shepherds 58 

An Easter Greeting 60 

The Spouse of Christ 62 

The Lamb Astray 64 

Hymn to St. Joseph 66 

My Mother 67 

Mary of the Mount 69 

The Three Gifts 72 

Next Summer 7 3 

The Sister's Secret 75 

A Prayer for France 77 

V 



VI CONTENTS 

A Christmas Dream 79 

A Priest Forever 82 

A Tale of the Choconut Valley 84 

To A Child 88 

My Old Country Home (Illustrated) 89 

A Greeting to the Veterans of the Grand Army of the 

Republic 91 

The Irish-American . . 9 4 

The Golden Jubilee 96 

Mother's Birthday 9 7 

To a Graduate 99 

Sancta Rosa 101 

The Dead Shepherd 102 

Christian Faith . . .104 

The Story Fiend 105 

Never Leave the Farm • . .107 

An Easter Wish 109 

A Word of Cheer Ill 

Little Things 112 

A Visit to the Blessed Sacrament 114 

Beside the Carmalt • 118 

The Reception 120 

The Silver Jubilee 122 

The Church of St. Thomas Aquinas, Archbald . . . . 124 

Mother's Feast Day 126 

The Christmas Prayer 128 

A Jubilee Greeting 131 

Where the Rhodendron Grow 133 

Chosen • 135 

The Crimson Rose 137 

Immortal Gold • 138 

To Helen 14 

The Birthday Roses 142 

The Guiding Star 145 

The Saints that I Knew In My Childhood 148 

Norine • 15° 

The Doctor's Story I 52 

The Better Part 156 

The Christmas Greeting . . 15 7 

The Friendsville Folk I 59 

Father Tabb 161 

The Mother's Prayer I 63 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Laurel Hill Academy, Susquehanna, Penna Frontispiece 

The Old Friendsville Church, erected in 1831 .... 19 

The Church of St. Philomena, Hawiey, Pennsylvania 45 

A Glimpse of Old Choconut 89 

Lake Choconut, familiarly known as "The Carmalt" . . 118 



m 



PREFACE 



HE book entitled, "Idyls of Lakeside," is a col- 
lection of beautiful poems written by children 
•*■ of Christopher O 'Byrne, of Priendsville, Sus- 

quehanna County, Pennsylvania. 

The volume will be greatly appreciated and 
enjoyed not only by the people among whom 
the authors lived and by whom they are beloved, but 
by numberless others who possess a taste for choice liter- 
ature. 

It is a pleasure and an honor to introduce and com- 
mend the work. A life-long admiration and friendship 
for the 'Byrne family make it a cherished privilege. 

"The many loved spots which their infancy knew," 
— the scenes of childhood, — were the inspiration and theme 
of a majority of the poems, and hence they are redolent 
of pastoral life and breathe a spirit of love and loyalty 
to birthplace and home, while the charm of variety is 
preserved by the graceful treatment of various other sub- 
jects. 

The Catholic settlements of Susquehanna County were, 
perhaps, the first in the territory that constitutes the 
present Scranton Diocese, long antedating its separation 



IX 



X PREFACE 

from the mother diocese of Philadelphia. Nearly a cen- 
tury ago sturdy exiles of Erin came and hewed their way 
through trackless forests and wrung an existence from the 
stubborn soil, the tillage of which now enables their 
descendants to live in comfort and independence. 

By their incursion into the distant wilds, however, 
they were not bereft of the solace of religion. Pioneer 
priests ministered unto them, and the people responded 
by the erection of churches, and even a college and a con- 
vent at St. Joseph, whose founder was that splendid 
priest, the Very Reverend John Vincent O'Reilly, one of 
the vicars-general to the Venerable John Nepomucene 
Neumann. It is to be hoped that the life of Father John 
Vincent O'Reilly, this great apostle of Northeastern 
Pennsylvania and the southern tier counties of New York, 
will yet be written ; for aught that relates to him, whose 
name is ever spoken with reverence and gratitude, will 
prove a valuable source of interest and edification. 

The college, of which the brilliant Reverend Hugh 
Monohan was vice-president, was for years a successful 
institution and a source of the highest moral and intel- 
lectual uplift in the community. It is gratifying to note 
that the educational tone and aspiration engendered by 
the college and the convent influences of the past are 
still in evidence among the people of St. Joseph and 
vicinity where the best traditions have been kept alive 
and fostered by Reverend John J. Lally, who for more 
than thirty years has been its beloved pastor. 

St. Joseph has also the distinction of being the 
original abode and novitiate of the Sisters-Servants of the 
Immaculate Heart of Mary in the diocese of Scranton, 



PREFACE XI 

now so ably presided over by the Right Reverend Michael 
John Hoban, D. D. This noble religious Order has become 
a strong factor in the progress of Christian education. 
Besides their extensive work in the educational line, these 
Sisters have charge of St. Joseph's Infant Asylum, Semin- 
ary Heights, Scranton, Pennsylvania, and of St. Patrick's 
Orphanage in the same city. The latter institution is 
under the protection of Reverend James B. Whelan, one 
of the many eminent humanitarians of whom Susquehanna 
County is proud. 

A young man can no longer secure a collegiate train- 
ing in this county, but within its confines the gentle 
Sisters impart the good old lessons in Laurel Hill Academy 
at Susquehanna, where a high standard of studies is main- 
tained. This excellent institution is about to celebrate its 
Golden Jubilee, and it is to honor this occasion that the 
authors, whom it numbers among its graduates, dedicate 
this work to their Alma Mater as a tribute of grateful 
affection. The success of this Academy is greatly due 
to Very Reverend P. F. Brodrick, V. F., who for twenty- 
five years has guarded its welfare with zealous care. 
Indeed, the arduous and assiduous labors of its Founder, 
Father O'Reilly and his associates in the ministry, have 
been blessed by Providence and have proved fruitful and 
enduring. 

The children of the Catholic immigrants of Susque- 
hanna County have been represented in the service of 
the church by two members of the Episcopate, the late 
Right Reverend Jeremiah F. Shanahan, D. D., of Harris- 
burg, Pennsylvania, an eloquent and scholarly prelate, 
and his surviving brother and successor, the zealous and 



Xll PREFACE 

learned Right Reverend John Y> 7 . Shanahan, D. D., as 
well as by a large number of priests and nuns. The 
descendants of the Irish pioneers have likewise shone in 
the political, educational and commercial world, and have 
adorned the professions of Law, Medicine, and the Fourth 
Estate. Next to safeguarding their religion, it was the 
high resolve of parents that their children should receive 
as good an education as possible. A few months of school- 
ing in the winter were supplemented by extensive read- 
ing and reflection at home, and thus thoroughly grounded 
in the rudiments, the real foundation of culture, they 
were qualified to drink deeper of the "Pierian Spring." 

The country districts have not remained unaffected 
by the turning of the tide of population away from the 
farm and toward the city street and factory gate, so much 
complained of nowadays; but there still remain on the 
old homesteads, established at so much labor and sacri- 
fice, worthy sons and daughters of honest fathers and 
virtuous mothers. To a goodly number urban life has 
not been more attractive than the call of the open air 
and cultivated field. Fine dwellings and estates attest 
their industry and prosperity. 

Prevailing conditions are in striking contrast to those 
that obtained in the olden days when isolation and incon- 
venience were not relieved by rural mail delivery, tele- 
phonic communication, and the advent of the automobile. 
In fact, the present generation find it difficult to under- 
stand the sacrifices and hardships encountered and over- 
come by their immediate forbears. But an inheritance 
of faith is theirs, and for this reason it will be found 
that the parishes of Susquehanna County are in a flourish- 



PREFACE Xlll 

ing condition and are administered by pastors of notable 
zeal and self-denial. At the present writing, nineteen 
hundred nine, these pastors are : 

Very Reverend P. F. Brodrick, V. F., Susquehanna. 
Reverend John J. Lally, St. Joseph's. 
Reverend Richard H. Walsh, Forest City. 
Reverend Francis P. Mack, Great Bend. 
Reverend James J. O'Malley, Little Meadows. 
Reverend Anthony T. Brodrick, Montrose. 
Reverend Michael J. Kelly, Auburn. 
Reverend John P. Dunne, Friendsville. 

Friendsville, named in compliment to the Quakers, 
has had a church since 1831, which ranks as second oldest 
in the county, if not in the diocese. Reverend Francis 
O'Flynn built the first church in Silver Lake in 1819. 
St. Francis Xavier's at Friendsville was erected through 
the efforts of Edward F. White, at the time an influential 
Catholic of means, whose wife was the eldest sister of 
Gerald Griffin, poet, dramatist, and novelist. The build- 
ing enlarged, improved and finally superseded in 1906 
by the new church, may be regarded as an old shrine, for 
around its walls are the hallowed graves of the dead. 
Gerald Griffin's parents are buried there. The epitaphs 
carved in the marble tablets that mark their resting places 
relate that Patrick Griffin, the first Catholic settler in 
Susquehanna County, was born in Limerick, Ireland, and 
died, January 20, 1836, age 72 years, and that his wife, 
Ellen, born in the same city, May, 1776, died, October 
14 1831. Beneath the church lie the remains of Rev. 



XIV PREFACE 

William F. Jennings one of its assistant pastors, who died 
in 1846. The mother and brother of the authors of these 
poems also repose in 

"The little graveyard green, 

Near the dear old Church in Friendsville, 
Where they were so often seen. ' ' 

The village itself is located upon a thoroughfare and 
has always been a center of much trade and activity. 

A list of the priests who discharged the duties of 
pastor of the renowned parish includes the names of 

Very Reverend John Vincent O'Reilly. 
Reverend Henry Fitzsimmons. 
Reverend John Loughran. 
Reverend A. Dudley Filan. 
Reverend Samuel S. Mattingly. 
Reverend Thomas Brehony. 
Reverend Patrick J. Murphy. 
Reverend Felix McGuckin. 
Reverend John J. Lally. 
Reverend James J. Farrell. 
Reverend B. V. Driscoll. 
Reverend John P. Dunne. 

It would be interesting to continue the account of 
Friendsville, and the adjoining townships with Catholic 
inhabitants, were it not beyond the scope and purpose of 
this article, whose limits permit but a passing mention and 
preclude any adequate historical sketch. Such mention 
as has been made much suffice to call attention to the 



PREFACE XV 

Catholics who have ever proved themselves a worthy- 
element of Susquehanna County 's honored population, and 
to emphasize the accomplishments and achievements of the 
immigrants and their progeny, which have rarely been 
recorded. The Catholics have ever lived in peace and 
Christian harmony with their fellow-citizens of other 
denominations. Among the benefactors of the Irish the 
names of Dr. Robert H. Rose, of Silver Lake, and Caleb 
Carmalt, of Friendsville, stand foremost. These men dealt 
justly and generously with the immigrant, as William 
Penn had done with the Indian. 

A perusal of the poems will reveal much unwritten 
history and bring into notice the hitherto unobserved 
beauties of many localities. 

An injunction restrains from personal allusion to the 
writers, for whom the poems, however, will speak; but 
it will not transgress the proprieties to refer to 
the distinguished parents of the composers and to their 
happy home at Lakeside, an environ of Friendsville. 
Situated above the placid lake that adds beauty and 
romance to the scene, and sheltered by a hedge and orch- 
ard, it is an ideal spot where the occupants spend their 
leisure hours in the study of nature and of the best 
authors. 

Christopher O 'Byrne, almost a nonagenarian, is prob- 
ably the oldest resident of the neighborhood. His estim- 
able wife and helpmate, Mary (Welch) 'Byrne, whose 
companionship he enjoyed for nearly half a century, died 
recently, and this grievous loss he bore with Christian resig- 
nation. Hers was a fine example of fidelity to God and 



XVI PREFACE 

love for family and home. May her memory ever be held 
in benediction. Mr. 'Byrne enjoys the esteem of the 
community, and is a splendid type of the country gentle- 
man. He can speak most entertainingly of the develop- 
ment of the settlement during the long years of his resi- 
dence. Keenly observant and an omnivorous reader, his 
views and sentiments received wide publicity and respect 
in the rural publications to which he was a frequent con- 
tributor. 

To his work he gave head and heart, as well as hand. 
He is a strong advocate of the simple life in contact with 
the soil, but in no narrow sense would he limit any one 
in a choice of occupation. In this land of liberty and 
equal opportunity, let every one follow his preference, 
but he does plead that the noble calling of agriculture 
should retain its due proportion of the population. It is 
likewise instructive to converse with him on Ireland and 
its affairs about which he keeps well informed. As a youth 
he heard the immortal Liberator, Daniel O'Connell, speak, 
and was one of the first to take the pledge from Father 
Mathew. 

To this good father, and to all friends of the authors, 
joy and pride will come when this book of poems issues 
from the press. It is believed and predicted that the 
circulation will exhaust the first edition, for aside 
from its intrinsic value appealing to all, the thousands 
of children of both public and conventual schools who 
have been pupils of the composers will desire a souvenir 
copy. 



PREFACE XV11 

A perusal will not disappoint, but on the contrary, 
be an agreeable surprise, and this excellent work, it is 
fondly hoped, will be a promise and an earnest of still 
other efforts in the future. 

Peter C. Winters. 
Rector of St. Philomena's Church, 
Hawley, Pennsylvania. 
Thanksgiving Day, 

Nineteen hundred nine. 



THE GOLDEN JUBILEE OF LAUREL 
HILL ACADEMY 



1860— Susquehanna— 1910 



All thy charms, fair Susquehanna, 
Are remembered fondly still, 

And thy greatest charms are centered 
In our own loved Laurel Hill. 

Never was an Alma Mater 

More deservingly revered, 
For by many hallowed memories 

Are her ancient walls endeared. 

Grateful souls now sound her praises, 
Who were nourished here in youth 

"With the milk of Christian kindness, 
And the bread of Christian truth. 

Old Saint Joseph's first apostle, 

Fifty golden years ago, 
Opened this fair home of learning, 

From which countless blessings flow. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

With God's glory for his watch-word, 
This great soldier of the Lord, 

Labored constantly, and looked fol 
No material reward. 

Even now his benediction 
Rests upon old Laurel Hill, 

For we doubt not that his spirit 
Is her faithful guardian still. 

Well does she deserve his blessing, 
She who drew so many souls 

Nearer the eternal kingdom 
That the Lord of Love controls. 

And another name forever 

Shall be linked with Laurel Hill, 

'Tis the name of one most zealous 
To promote her welfare still. 

'Tis a name that each alumnus 
Deeply honors and reveres, 

For he guarded well our interests 
Five and twenty fruitful years. 

And the ever faithful Sisters, 

Sacrificing all to serve 
In the school of our true Master, 

They, our gratitude deserve. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

In the joy of this fair festal, 

Every Sister has a part, — 
Every Sister consecrated 

To the love of Mary's heart: 

For our dear old Alma Mater, 

In the seasons fleeting fast, 
Carved a grand and glowing record 

That has never been surpassed. 

Mother of sweet inspiration! 

Numerous have been the calls 
To the priesthood and the cloister, 

Heard within her sacred walls. 

Laurel Hill, thy sons and daughters 
Are the grand undoubted proof 

That ideals, high and holy, 

Have been fostered 'neath thy roof. 

Laurel Hill, thy sons and daughters 
Form a crown exceeding rare, — 

One that any Alma Mater 

Might be justly proud to wear. 

Blessings on thee, Alma Mater! 

Blessings on thy Jubilee! 
May the halo that surrounds thee 

Shine in heaven eternally! 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



"OUT HOME" 

There is nothing half so lovely 

Under heaven's starry dome, 
There is nothing more enchanting 

Than the Carmalt Lake "out home." 
Pair it is at early dawning, 

Fair in sunset's golden light, 
But oh ! fairest in the luster 

Of a moon-lit harvest night ; 
Then, to me, 'tis more like Heaven 

Than all else the world contains, 
And my thoughts must e'er be holy 

While its memory remains. 

And the hills that girt Lake Carmalt, 

Rising gently east and west, 
Ay, and just as gently northward, — 

Are the fairest and the best; 
Grass has never yet been greener, 

Nor were Marguerites more white 
Than were those that used to glisten 

In the early morning light, 
On those hillsides of old Choconut, 

Over which I long to roam, 
As I did in days of childhood 

In the balmy air "out home." 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

You who love the fragrant woodland, 

Or the cool and shady grove, 
O, believe me, you can nevnr 

Through a fairer forest rove, 
Than the happy home of songsters 

Through which crystal waters flow, 
And where vine and fern and flower 

In the silvery mosses grow. 
There are berries red as rubies, 

There is dog-wood white as foam, 
There is ivy green as emerald, 

In the hemlock woods "out home." 

Can surroundings make a people 

Good or evil, false or just? 
Can fair scenes make souls more holy, 

More deserving of our trust? 
Then, if so, I thank old Choconut 

For the blessings it extends, 
For although I've met with many 

Who have proved most loyal friends, 
I shall never meet with any, 

No, no matter where I roam, 
Who can fill my heart completely 

Like the dear old folks "out home." 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



OLD ST. JOSEPH'S 

Where the Choconut waters wander 

'Round a proud and stately hill, 
In the vale of old Saint Joseph's, 

My affections linger still; 
And of all the recollections 

Of my childhood's rosy days 
On none other does my memory 

With such lingering fondness gaze, 
As upon the scenes enacted 

In that lovely little dell 
Where the dead I love are sleeping . 

And the friends I love still dwell. 

Two score years and ten have vanished 

Since the silvery convent chimes 
There re-echoed with a sweetness 

Seldom heard in other climes. 
I could dream sweet dreams forever 

Of those days so long ago . 
When the blue-robed Sisters coming 

From their home in far Monroe, 
Hid themselves in that quaint valley, 

There through peaceful, prayerful days 
To defend the cause of Jesus, 

And proclaim His Mother's praise. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Not a trace of that old convent 

Does the little vale contain, 
But the spirit of devotion 

And of holy peace remain; 
And my soul seems close to heaven 

In that atmosphere of prayer, 
For I know that saints have worshipped 

At the sacred altar there. 
He, the "pioneer apostle," 

Loved by men of every creed, 
There drew sinners to repentance 

By his every word and deed. 

He whose name today is honored 

By the scions of a race 
That it was his joy to nurture 

In the ways of truth and grace ; 
Oft he walked with Blessed Neumann 

By those loved and lonely streams, 
There receiving inspirations 

For his high and holy themes. 
So it is, among the pictures 

That the hand of Memory paints, 
Queen of all is old Saint Joseph's, 

Shrine of beauty and of saints. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 



THE VISIT OF THE KING 

To a certain little hamlet, 
On a certain day in spring, 

Came this message to the faithful : 
"Come ye out and meet the King!" 

At his coming, joy ran riot, 
As if stirred by magic spell; 

For this was a kindly monarch, 
And his people loved him well. 

On the village green he halted, 
Made a rustic bench his throne ; 

'Twas an honor far the greatest 
That the hamlet yet had known. 

All day long he tarried with them, 
Less'ning sorrow and distress; 

At his just and wise tribunal 
Ev'ry grievance found redress. 

Eagerly they crowded 'round him, 
Seeking favors, great and small ; 

And the noble monarch granted, 
Smilingly, his gifts to all. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

In that happy throng there mingled 

One whose eager, hazel eyes 
Followed all the monarch's movements 

In a trance of pleased surprise. 

Graciously the King turned toward him, 

As the timid boy drew near, 
And in kindly accents asked him : 

"What, my child, has brought you here?' 

"There is naught I want, good Sire, 

Only just to stay awhile ; 
For I like to hear you talking, 

And I like to see you smile." 

"You shall have," the King said slowly, 
"What I love best to impart, — 

You shall have my lifelong friendship, 
And a place here in my heart." 

Ah! this gift was prized far dearer 
Than all else the world contained; 

Thus the boy who sought no favor, 
More than all the others gained. 

Little one, this tale reminds us 
That the noblest, kindest King 

Comes to visit us each morning, — 
Comes the rarest gifts to bring. 



10 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

With a tender love, far deeper 
Than the world has ever known, 

Does this Monarch greet His subjects 
From his humble altar throne. 

And 'tis e'er His kingly pleasure 
Every sorrow to relieve ; 

All who come to claim His favors, 
Precious graces shall receive. 

But on those who seek his presence, 
"Just to stay a little while," 

Not to crave some selfish interest, 
Jesus turns His sweetest smile. 

Those who seek no greater pleasure 
Save to be with Him, shall find 

In the Sacred Heart He gives them 
Every other good combined. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 11 



SILVER LAKE 

I can hear a robin singing — 

He is hiding in the leaves, 
In the maples or the lilacs, 

Crowded up against the eaves. 
If he knew how much I love him, 

He would show himself, I know, 
For I heard the song he's singing 

Over twenty years ago. 
Every time I hear that anthem 

Tender memories awake, 
For the robins always sing it 

In the groves at Silver Lake. 

0, the June days then were sunny 

And they never were too long ; 
I could linger there forever, 

Listening to the robin's song. 
"When the orchards were in blossom 

And the locust trees were white, 
When the air was pure and balmy, 

And my heart was young and light, 
Then I drifted o'er the waters, 

Or I wandered through the brake, 
And I knew full well the value 

Of a day at Silver Lake. 



12 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

0, the fields of crimson clover, 

And the green maize on the hill, 
And the pastures starred with cowsilips, 

And the old woods, cool and still! 
But the bosky banks that border 

Silver Lake are fairer far — 
How I wish that I could show you 

Where its water lilies are ! 
How I wish that you might listen 

To the merry wavelets break, 
In a cadence most entrancing, 

On the shores of Silver Lake. 

Has the robin made me homesick? 

Nay, I bless him for that song. 
Every separate note awakens 

Mem'ries that have slumbered long; 
Mem'ries of old friends, and friendships 

That shall never know an end. 
For I hope to meet in Heaven 

Every fond and faithful friend. 
And I pray with trust unswerving 

That God's grace may ne'er forsake 
Those I loved when life was lovely, 

On the shore of Silver Lake. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 13 



IN MEMORIAM 

The noon of his glorious manhood 

Had scarcely been reached when death came, 
And just when he seemed the most needed, 

It entered its sorrowful claim. 

Oh ! never did death bring more sorrow, 
Or sorrow more lasting than this! 

For he whom we mourn was a father 
Whom thousands of children will miss. 

A pastor who lived for his people, 

A guide, a protector, a friend, 
Who ever was willing and ready 

A generous hand to extend. 

The poor and afflicted sought comfort 
From him, and were never denied; 

His heart knew no rest while another's 
Had wants that could not be supplied. 

A counselor, wise and far-seeing, 

Whose wisdom seemed truly divine ; 

A judge who believed that sweet mercy 
And justice should ever combine. 



14 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

We grieve that the heart, once so Christlike, 

Lies cold in the casket today ; 
That the brain, then so fertile and active 

Is now but inanimate clay. 

We grieve, and our grieving is selfish; 

We sigh that his labors are o'er, 
That we may command his attention 

And hear his loved counsels no more. 

But is he not still our protector, 

Our advocate near the high throne? 

Doubt not that so faithful a spirit 
Will ever remember his own. 

The church that he built proudly shelters 

The tomb of her founder today ; 
His grief-stricken children there gather 

Above his loved relics to pray. 

His spirit shall sympathize ever 

With them, though he reigns with the blessed, 
And he will befriend and protect them 

Till they from their labors shall rest. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 15 



THE VOICE OF THE HARP 

Too long, too long on Tara's wall 

The harp has hung forsaken! 
Oh, take it down and once again 

The soul of song awaken! 
But do not strike a single chord 

To make the fond heart lonely, 
Let Erin's harp recall tonight 

Her hopes and glories only. 
Let it recall her triumphs won, 

Whose luster lights the ages; 
Her noble chiefs, her warriors brave, 

And famous bards and sages. 

Sing of her rugged mountain heights 

With purple heather gleaming, 
Of valleys green, where fragrant fern 

And flowers are ever beaming. 
Sing of her fair and famous wood, 

By Freedom's spirit haunted, 
That knew of old the silent march 

Of gallowglass undaunted. 
Recount the beauties of her lochs 

That claim the minstrels' praises, 
And silver streams whereon the eye 

In loving rapture gazes. 



16 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Intone sweet hymns of chapels blest, 

Of shrines and healing waters, 
That are today the proudest boast 

Of Erin's sons and daughters. 
These scions of a loyal race, 

The Faith have fondly cherished 
Through persecutions wherein all 

Their worldly treasures perished. 
But, oh. sing not of Erin's wrongs, — 

It is too sad a story! 
The harp must breathe of naught tonight 

Save Erin's endless glory. 

From every clime beneath the sun 

Where Irish hearts are beating, 
There goes today across the seas, 

A warm and joyous greeting, — 
A greeting to the land of song, 

The land of wit and learning, 
The land to which, by slow degrees, 

F;iir Freedom is returning. 
Let all who love the Gaelic cause, 

"Whatever creed professing, 
In prayerful song implore with us 

For Erin God's best blessing. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 17 



THE GREEN-MEADOW FARM 

Sweet Chenango, thy hills and thy valleys and rills 

Are fairest of any I know, 
But thy one greatest charm is the Green-meadow Farm, 

The home that I left long ago. 
It is years since I strayed through its lone Fairy Glade. 

And pasture of beautiful green; 
It is years since I stood by the old maple wood 

And gazed on that dearly loved scene. 

I can see it tonight in the mellow twilight, 

As I saw it that June day of yore, 
When I bade it good-bye, with a tear-bedimmed eye, — 

The dear home that was mine nevermore. 
The old dwelling house, gray, was so grand in its day 

That it seemed like a mansion to me ; 
All the flowers are gone that then bloomed on the lawn, 

As is also my favorite old tree. 

But I see the wide lane, and the broad Cowslip Plain ; 

And the stream in the valley below, 
Slowly wanders at will 'round the green Corbin Hill 

As it did in the days long ago. 
Not a trace doth remain of the barn on the plain 

Where the swallow sought shelter from harm; 
But the orchard stands still 'neath the brow of the hill — 

Once the pride of the Green-meadow Farm. 



18 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

By this moss-covered sill of the old wooden mill, 

I gathered the violets blue ; ' 
Here the bobolink sang till the whole valley rang 

With music the long summer through. 
Oh ! I loved so to stray through the woodland away 

With my childhood friends, trusted and true ; 
Oft for hours we would rove through the Blackberry 
Grove, 

Away down where the dandelion grew. 

But if e'er 'twas our fate to be coming home late, 

We would hasten along in alarm, 
Lest we'd meet with the sprite, that they told us each 
night 

Kept a guard o'er the Green-meadow Farm. 
It was well my heart knew where the winter-green grew, 

And the maiden-hair fern in the dell ; 
The fringed gentian so blue and the red balsam, too, 

And the sweet-briar down by the well. 

Still the lilacs stand here and the elm tree is near, 

But I miss many landmarks of yore ; 
They have fallen away like the friends of that day, 

Who will greet me on earth nevermore. 
Yes, Chenango, thy hills and thy valleys and rills 

Are fairest of any I know; 
But thy one greatest charm is the Green-meadow Farm, 

The home that I left long ago. 









Thf i 
We 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 19 



THE OLD FRIENDSVILLE CHURCH 

I have prayed in many temples 

That were pleasant to behold, 
Grand in outline, grand in color, 

Rich in precious stones and gold ; 
But I knew another temple 

That to me was fairer far, 
In the dear old town of Friendsville 

AVhere the fond and faithful are. 



Plain it was and unpretentious, 

Yet it wore a certain grace 
That made even unbelievers 

Feel it was a sacred place. 
Saintly souls who often gathered 

Eound the lowly altar there, 
Found the dear old church in Friendsville 

An ideal place of prayer. 

How I loved that little altar, 

Decked with woodland flowers and fern- 
There were offered to the Savior 

Gifts that He will never spurn : 
Guileless hearts, all warm and trusting, 

Were presented at His throne, 
In the dear old church in Friendsville. 

Where God came to meet His own. 



20 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

When in dreams I see fair angels, 

Or on saintly faces gaze, 
They are always like the pictures 

That I loved in childhood days. 
Still I fancy God's dear Mother 

Like the little statue fair, 
In the dear old church in Friendsville, 

Where I often knelt in prayer. 

But that statue rests no longer 

On the altar low and white ; 
There no more is seen the glimmer 

Of the sanctuary light : 
They have built a grander temple 

With a higher altar throne, 
And the dear old church in Friendsville 

Now stands desolate and lone. 

Still it stands in that old graveyard, 

Where the sacred dust is laid 
Of the faithful hearts that often 

For the souls of others prayed. 
And there Gerald Griffin's parents 

Rest beneath a hawthorn tree, 
Near the dear old church in Friendsville — 

Dear to mine and dear to me. 



Oft I lingered 'neath that hawthorn 

In the sunny days of yore, 
But the friends who lingered with me, 

I shall meet on earth no more ; 
For their graves lie close together 

In the little graveyard green, 
By the dear old church in Friendsville, 

Where they were so often seen. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 21 

May their faith firm and unchanging 

Still continue to live on ! 
May it flourish when each vestige 

Of the lonely church is gone ! 
May the light of Truths expounded 

By God's ministers divine, 
In the dear old church in Friendsville, 

With undying splendor shine. 



22 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE MONSTRANCE 

She brought to the altar one morning, 

A beautiful monstrance of gold, 
Requesting it might be accepted, 

The Treasure of Christians to hold. 
In wonder I gazed on her offering. 

It seemed so transcendingly bright ; 
And counted the circle of jewels 

That flashed like a rainbow of light. 

I looked through the transparent crystal, 

Soon destined a God to enclose, 
And thought how the Author of Beauty, 

With pleasure therein would repose. 
That night, at the grand Benediction, 

A sunburst of splendor it seemed; 
Surrounded by lights and by flowers, 

The jewels in brilliancy gleamed. 

I thought of the glory of Jesus, 

Concealed in the white Host so near, 
And, like the Apostle on Tabor, 

Repeated, " 'Tis good to be here!" 
But short are the moments on Tabor ; 

Too soon came the final, "Amen!" 
Too soon in the closed tabernacle, 

Sweet Jesus was resting again. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 23 

I knelt at the altar long after, 

Still watching the monstrance ; and thought 
Its beauty, its splendor, its value, 

No pleasure to Jesus have brought, 
If she who has given this treasure, 

Has failed with her gift to impart, 
The jewel He prizes most dearly, 

A humble and confident heart. 

Ah ! that is the gift He is seeking, 

The monstrance that Jesus loves best ; 
It is in the heart of His creature 

That He, the Creator, would rest. 
Then guard well this monstrance, and keep it, 

As pure as the purest of gold ; 
Enrich it with heavenly jewels, 

The Savior loves best to behold ; 

And give it to Him undivided, 

Nor dare for another, retain 
The gift, without which every other 

Is offered to Jesus in vain. 
O, let us remember no offerings, 

No matter how fair, can atone, 
For wronging a God, by withholding 

The heart that He made for His own. 



24 IDYL.S OF LAKESIDE 



A PRAYERFUL WISH 

Inspired by love, thy children fond 

To Mount Saint Mary's height, 
Their joyous salutations send 

This Silver Feast Day bright ; 
And brilliant as the sparkling crown 

That rests upon thy brow 
They pray the holy joy may be 

That heaven sends thee now. 

A joy that speaks of triumphs gained 

'Mid trials, cares and fears, 
Of loyal love that marks the toil 

Of five and twenty years; 
A joy that brings with it new strength, 

For all is not yet done, 
And there remains a brighter crown, 

Dear Mother, to be won. 

If our fond love and sympathy 

This golden crown could win, 
No care, nor strife should ever mark 

The cycle to begin. 
But, no, the work must still be thine, 

The Master wills it so, 
For love that suffers not, is love 

The heart can never know. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 25 

May each succeeding year bring still 

More holy joy to thee, 
Until in Heaven thou 'It celebrate 

An endless Jubilee. 
Thy God-appointed task complete, 

All care and toil shall cease, 
And then, dear Spouse of Christ, thou It rest 

Eternally in peace. 



26 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE OLD NORTH BRANCH 

The old North Branch goes wandering down 
Among the hills in Middletown; 
It flows through fields of yellow wheat, 
Through barley, maize, and clover sweet; 
Full well it knows each varied scene, — 
The fallow land, the forest green, 
Through trackless wilds at will it roams, 
And winds its way past happy homes. 
At times it sings a merry song, 
But silently it moves along 
Between the elms tall and green 
That shade the home of my Kathleen. 

For aeons past the old North Branch 
Has wandered round the Coleman Ranche, 
For aeons past have maidens fair 
Gone gathering ferns and flowers there ; 
But none more winsome ever strayed 
Beneath the graceful elms' shade, 
None more sincere and none more sweet 
Have lingered in that cool retreat. 
What wonder that the waters flow 
Apast her home so still and slow, 
For never has the North Branch seen 
Another girl like my Kathleen. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 27 

The old North Branch goes on its way, 
No earthly power its course may stay; 
O, would I were as free to roam, 
As free to linger near her home ! 
'Tis long since I have seen her face 
In that well loved, familiar place ; 
But well I know in pious prayer 
My name is often mentioned there ; 
And if on earth we meet no more, 
I trust when exile days are o'er 
To meet again in God's demesne 
My loyal-hearted girl, Kathleen. 



28 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE LETTER FROM HOME 

From "Castletown, Kilpatrick," — 
That is the right address; 

And O, the hand that wrote it, 
May God forever bless ! 

Joy-laden comes the missive 
From one's own native land, 

And with a joy that aliens 
Alone can understand. 

Some tidings of the old friends 

I knew long years ago, 
Or tidings of their children — 

Tis all the same, you know. 

Yes, "Castletown, Kilpatrick," — 

I see it written there; 
Thrice blessed shall be the writer, 

If God but hears my prayer ! 

The very words awaken 
Sweet memories of the past, 

That shall be fondly cherished 
As long as life may last. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 29 

And now again in fancy 

I live the old life o'er, 
And hear the blackbirds singing 

At Fringenstown once more. 

I see the hawthorn blossoms, 

Adorn the shady lane 
That leads to where the daisies 

Spread o'er the hill and plain. 

There, where the Meath Club gathered,— 

I see it plainly still — 
The Bengerstown Fox Cover, 

Near Syddon on the hill. 

Still thrills the recollection 

Of scarlet coats and steeds, 
Called hither by the Argus, 

That trooped across the meads; 

Full fifty fearless huntsmen, 

Impatient for the chase, 
The baying hounds to follow, 

No matter what their pace. 

To Mountaintown or Rathhood, 

Or e'en to Whitewood fair, 
"With Reynard as a leader — 

Such sport as that is rare. 



30 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Ah! Castletown, Kilpatrick! 

I wonder has it changed, 
Since I in days long distant, 

Through field and forest ranged. 

And have they changed, — the old friends? 

Ah ! no it cannot be ; 
Those hearts so true and noble, 

Are still the same to me. 

"God rest his soul!" is written 

With almost every name ; 
And yet to me the old friends 

Must ever be the same. 

Then let me read my letter 

From Castletown once more, — 

And once more on the writer, 
God's blessing, I implore. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 31 



THE ORDINATION 

At last the hope so long deferred 

Is fully realized ; 
At last your eager soul receives 

The gift it long has prized. 
A gift that conies from sacred hands, 

A mission all divine, 
The right to stand for evermore 

Beneath God's grand ensign. 
The mission that so long ago 

He gave His chosen few, 
His cause, His honor, aye, Himself 

He now entrusts to you. 
Oh, thought sublime ! a very God 

To come at your command 
And place Himself, the Source of Love, 

In your anointed hand. 

Ordained to represent the Lamb, 

Who for our sins sufficed, 
The angels look on you today 

As on another Christ. 
"According to the order of 

Melchisedec, thou art 
A priest forever, ' ' and a priest 

According to God's Heart. 



32 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

Forever ! how the soul expands 

To grasp the thought sublime ! 
To know the glory of this day 

Cannot he dimmed by time. 
Well is your constancy repaid ; 

Well may your friends rejoice, 
And seek, as I do vainly now, 

Their boundless joy to voice. 

A paean sung by angel bands 

Might fittingly express 
A fragment of this holy joy 

That never shall grow less. 
But oh ! how sweet the strain would be 

That might portray, in part, 
The depth of joy that dwells today 

In your fond mother's heart. 
No words of mine can add to this, 

This joy supreme, complete; 
But I can kneel with grateful heart 

Close to the Master's feet, 
And pray, the grace received today 

May year by year increase, 
Until He calls you home to rest 

With Him in love and peace. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 33 



CHRISTMAS WITHOUT MOTHER 

The Christmas chimes are ringing 

But every note sounds strange, 
For oh! since last I heard them 

My heart has known a change. 
The mistletoe and holly 

Are scattered all around, 
And o'er our humble grotto 

A glistening arch is bound; 
Through misty eyes I'm gazing 

Upon this Christmas cheer, 
And all is bright and homelike — 

But mother is not here. 

I hear the merry greetings 

And strains of sacred song, 
I see the happy children 

Around the manger throng; 
They kiss the holy Infant 

As I did when a child, 
And look with love on Joseph 

And Mary undefiletd. 
With them I find sweet comfort, 

With them I, too, rejoice — 
But in the Christmas anthem 

I miss my mother's voice. 



34 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Most precious Child of Mary! 

Dear little Prince of Peace ! 
O, may the cross you sent me 

My confidence increase! 
May sorrow draw me nearer 

To You, dear Babe divine, 
May You and Your sweet Mother 

Think lovingly of mine. 
Oh ! comfort all the loved ones 

Who miss her smile today; 
Bless those for whom my mother 

Was ever wont to pray. 

From her I learned the story 

Of Your most holy birth, 
Of how You came from Heaven 

To scatter joy on earth. 
From her I learned to carry 

My sorrows to Your feet, 
And find that every trial 

When blessed by You is sweet. 
0, Jesus, son of Mary ! 

Be kind to her, I pray! 
May she in Your bright Presence, 

Enjoy this Christmas Day! 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 35 



THE SAVINGS BANK 

It was Christmas Eve and laughter 
Seemed to fill the very air; 

Merry jests and gladsome greetings 
Were re-echoed everywhere. 

Seated in the car before me 
Was a merry brown-eyed boy, 

Who was evidently trying 
To produce a fund of joy. 

His attention was directed 

To a little maiden fair, 
Whom I judged to be his sister, 

For they both had auburn hair. 

Sweet the stories that he told her 
Of the Christ Child, kind and dear, 

Who supplies the good Saint Nicholas 
With his treasures every year. 

Pleasingly each scene he pictured, 
And unconscious of his power, 

Held a dozen listeners' interest 
For the best part of an hour. 



36 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Then we stopped at some small station, 
There to tarry for a while, 

And a poor old palsied woman 
Tottered feebly up the aisle. 

Quick our hero rose to greet her, 
With a boyish smile most sweet ; 

Took her bundles and her crutches 
And secured for her a seat. 

After she had thanked and blessed him, 
Gracefully he took his place, 

Then the little girl turned to him 
With a bright flush on her face, 

And exclaimed: "I'm really thankful 
And I know God must be glad 

That you pitied poor old Aunty 
For she looks so tired and sad." 

Laughingly the boy responded, 
"Girly, you're misjudging me; 

For instead of pitying Aunty 
I just envy her, you see. 

"I have reasons to feel certain 
That the dear old creature there, 

With the crutches and the palsy, 
Is a multi-millionaire; 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 37 

While that lady 'way up yonder 

In the furs and velvets decked, 
With the diamonds in her ear-drops, 

Is a bankrupt, I suspect." 

"Please explain that statement, sonny," 

Said an old man sitting near; 
And the boy complied politely 

With the tale appended here : 

"Well, I dare not tell this story 

With my heroine so near, 
If I did not know that Aunty 

Is so deaf that she can't hear. 

"First of all, I must remind you 

That some people do not know 
There's a savings-bank in Heaven, 

But I knew it long ago. 

"Uncle Benedict once told me 

All about the way it works : 
Jesus is the Heavenly Banker 

And the angels are His clerks. 

"Each soul has a special lawyer, 

Known as guardian angel, — see? 
Who attends to all his business, 

But the angel asks no fee. 



38 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

"For each little deed of mercy 
In that bank a check they place, 

Ev'ry check draws compound interest, 
And this interest some call grace. 

"Lucifer has pettifogers 

Prowling 'round both day and night, 
Claiming drafts of our good lawyers 

When we wander from the right. 

"Of these same old tricky rascals 

I am mortally afraid, 
For each draft they get their hands on, 

From our credits must be paid. 

"But enough of this digressing, 
I just want to let you know 

That this good old woman's riches 
Are not hoarded here below ; 

"Yet poor Aunty once had treasures 
That the world sets value on, — 

Husband, children, friends and money,— 
But she lost them, every one. 

"No one ever heard her murmur, 
Though her husband and her son 

Perished in the Union Army, 
And her daughter died, a nun. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 39 

''Now, she is alone and lonely, 
Widowed, childless, old and poor; 

But she says God gives her graces 
All these trials to endure. 



"Yes, the Heavenly Banker called for 
All the treasures she possessed, 

And she gave them, freely, gladly; 
For you see, she loved Him best. 

"Now if you persist in doubting 

That she is a millionaire, 
Wait until we get to Heaven 

And I'll prove it for you there. 

"I might tell you more about her, 

If we did not get off here — 
Wish you all a merry Christmas, 

And a glorious New Year!" 

Hardly had the story-teller 

Left the car before there came 
To its window a poor beggar 

Asking alms in Heaven's name. 

Haggard, hollow-eyed, and desperate 

Looked that young face through the glass; 

It would seem that Christmas gladness 
Was not meant for him, alas! 



40 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

But the man at whose suggestion 
Aunty's story had been told, 

Raising up the window quickly, 
Offered him a piece of gold ; 

And the poor youth hesitating, 
Seemingly afraid to take 

Such an offering, weakly faltered: 
"Friend you're making a mistake. 



"No," the donor answered softly, 
"Had I more, I'd give it too: 

Take it, boy, for my deposits 
In the heavenly bank are few." 

As he took the gift, the beggar 

Raised his eyes and faltered : ' ' Well, 

I'm compelled to tell you, Christian, 
You have saved a soul from hell. 



"You can see that I am suffering — 
May you never know such pain — 

All day long I 've begged this money 
But alas! I begged in vain; 

"Just enough to pay my car fare 
To my home out on the hill, 

Where a fond old mother knows not 
That her wayward boy is ill. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 41 

"People told me there are public 

Hospitals for such as I; 
But I felt that I must see her 

Once again before I die. 

"So I hung around the station, 

But I found no pity there; 
And the heartless, cold refusals 

Drove my weak soul to despair. 

"Then the evil spirit whispered: 

'God has ceased to be your friend — 
Throw yourself before the engine 

And a life of sorrow end.' 

"Long I struggled with the tempter, 
And my strength was failing fast — 

Oh ! good friend, had you refused me 
My last hope of Heaven was past. 

"May the God whom I offended 

Pardon me; and may He bless 
You, and all who thus take pity 

On the victims of distress ! 

"Gratitude will ever prompt me, 

With sincerity, to pray 
That your life may be a contrast 

To the life I led this day." 



42 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Here the old man interrupted : 

"Under God, there's none to thank, 

Save the boy who told the story 
Of the heavenly savings-bank. 

"It has never been my custom 
To encourage men like you; 

If I had not heard his story, 
I should have refused you too. 

"Look, my friend, if you should see him, 

He is standing over there ; 
See, the dark-eyed, little fellow 

With the sunshine in his hair!" 

But the whistle sounded loudly, 
And the train bore us away; 

So I know not if my hero 

Learned the good he did that day. 

You who have so kindly listened 
To this story, I must thank— 

And I trust you too have riches 
In the Heavenly Savings-Bank. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



43 



IN MEMORY OF MOTHER MARY 

The soul that lived for God alone, 
At length, has heavenward fled, 

And with blanched lips her children ask, 
"Is Mother Mary dead? 



"Is Mother dead? And shall we gaze 

On her dear face no more? 
And are the meetings, that we loved 

So well, forever o'er? 

"Is Mother dead? And is the low 
And gentle voice that filled 

Our youthful hearts with holy love, — 
0, is that sweet voice stilled? 

"With loving hearts, may we no more 

Caress the generous hand, 
That loved to scatter charities 

Throughout the suffering land? 

"Oh, is the last sweet lesson taught, — 
The last fond blessing said? 

And must we ever miss that smile? 
Is Mother really dead?" 



44 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Yes, she is dead, but Faith's fond eye 
Shows us that sainted face 

Reclining on the Sacred Heart, 
Her "longed for resting place." 

From His bright throne she smiles on us 
And blesses us each day, 

While, filled with love and gratitude, 
At Jesus' Feet we pray. 

And as we kneel in silence deep, 
With Faith's unerring ear 

We hear the same sweet voice repeat 
Each lesson taught us here. 






HAW 

That I watcl 

Through th 'inch 

Lighting up the costly pair 

m the masters old, 



■ 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 45 



THE CHURCH OF ST. PHILOMENA, 
HAWLEY. 

It was in Saint Philomena's 

On a clear December day, 
That I watched the amber sunlight 

Through the stained-glass window stray ; 
Lighting up the costly paintings, 

Copied from the masters old, 
Glinting over soft green arches 

Fretted here and there with gold. 

I rejoiced to see such splendor 

In the Savior's earthly home; 
From the grassy tufted carpet 

To the richly painted dome, 
All was elegance and beauty, 

And each glowing work of art 
Preached its own effective sermon 

To the least attentive heart. 

Everywhere the pleased eye rested 

Some new beauty was revealed, 
Lifelike statues, sacred emblems 

To both mind and heart appealed. 
In the Pieta so lonely 

Even children might discern 
Iconography most holy 

And the love of Mary learn. 



46 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Long I watched the grand main altar 

Finished like a regal throne. 
Where amid the Christmas twining 

Gleams of gold and crystal shone. 
In the brilliant lamp suspended 

Near the tabernacle fair. 
Burned the watchful light proclaiming 

That the King of Kings was there. 

He the great eternal Monarch 

Of creation's vast domain. 
Who had left the court of Heaven 

From this earthly throne to reign ! 
He was there with all His glory 

In a little Host concealed, 
Nothing showing of His Kingship 

Save what holy Faith revealed. 

And it was not lights nor flowers. 

Precious urns nor works of art, 
But the all Divine attraction 

Of His gentle Sacred Heart, 
That drew faithful souls to worship 

In Saint Philomena's fair, 
And to linger fondly dreaming 

Prayerful dreams of Heaven there. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 47 



THE NINE FIRST FRIDAYS 

I. 

The year with its triumphs and failures, 
Its joys and its sorrows, waned fast, 

And light hearts looked eagerly forward, 
Nor sighed for the happy days past. 

Brave men and fair maidens assembled 
To witness the death of one year, 

And welcome the dawn of another, 
With joyous and hearty good cheer. 

Our light-hearted Gene was the gayest 
Among all the mirth-loving throng, 

For he was a pleasure promoter, 

And first in the dance and the song. 

But ere the old year had departed, 
There sounded a voice, low and clear. 

"Tomorrow will be the First Friday — 
The first of the month and the year.' 

A silence fell o'er the assembly 

That seemed like a prelude to grace, 

And surely the angels were anxious 
Who witnessed the change in each face. 



48 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

A gay round of holiday pleasures 

Had caused our young friends to forget 

The morrow would be the First Friday 
Else they on this night had not met; 

For these were young convent-bred people, 

To duty and God ever true, 
Our own St. Cecilia's loved children, 

Who honor the white and the blue. 

The lights, the gay friends and the music, 
Ah ! these were enticing, — but then — 

"Tomorrow will be the First Friday!" 
Each young heart re-echoed again. 

Could they for a night's fleeting pleasure 

The unbounded graces forego 
That from the First Friday Communion, 

In sweet prodigality flow? 

No word of dissension was uttered, 
When Gene in his own earnest way 

Requested an early adjournment, 

That they might "receive" the next day. 

For he had most solemnly promised 
His invalid school friend, poor Jim, 

He would for nine months in succession 
"Receive" each First Friday for him. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 49 

With holy approval the angels 

Beheld their young charges depart, 
That each might be ready and worthy 

To welcome the dear Sacred Heart. 

Gene hoped to confess on the New Year, 

But he was detained till, alas ! 
On entering the church he discovered 

The priest was commencing the Mass. 

And all through the beautiful service 

His one great distraction was this: 
Must he after all his endeavors, 

His First Friday offering miss? 

Religion with Gene was like business; 

He spared no exertion to gain 
The slightest advancement in either, 

And seldom his efforts were vain. 

He waited till all had departed, 

And then in the sacristy sought 
The priest who that day to so many 

The joys of Communion had brought. 

Most gladly he heard Gene's confession, 

And gave the true Manna to him; 
Then left him adoring his Savior, 

And earnestly pleading for Jim. 



50 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Another First Friday passed over, 

But ere the next dawned came the call 

That Jim for so long had expected — 
A call that must come to us all. 

God grant that we all be as worthy 
To meet our Redeemer as Jim! 

God grant that our friends be as loyal 
To us, as our hero to him ! 

II. 

The midsummer days found Gene resting 
Afar where the feverish heat 

And weary turmoil of the city 
Disturbed not his quiet retreat. 

Once more he forgot the First Friday — 
And it was the last of the nine,— 

Forgot until late Thursday evening, 
And he many miles from a shrine. 

Deserting his friends, the next morning 
He turned toward the city once more, 

But found when he reached the Cathedral 
The most Holy Sacrifice o'er. 

The bishop, the priests and the deacons 
Who thronged in the sacristy, showed 

The power of priesthood that morning 
On several young men was bestowed. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 51 

The people still filled the Cathedral, 
And priests with the people remained, 

That they might receive the "First Blessing" 
Of those who that day were ordained. 



Gene sought out a faithful apostle 
Who ever had been his true friend, 

Who ever was ready and willing 

His strong, earnest faith to commend. 

He pleaded his cause, and they entered 
The Convent just over the way, — 

The Convent where Gene in his childhood 
Spent many a long, happy day. 

'Twas there in an old-fashioned class-room 
He first met his then boyish friend, 

And long St. Cecilia's had fostered 

That friendship which death could not end. 

Unquestioned the priest and our hero 
Passed on to the Chapel so fair ; 

The First Friday Holy Communion 
Was offered unselfishly there; 

The sweet Sacred Heart and Its merits. 

All this he was giving for Jim — 
Was giving to God in atonement 

For aught that was wanting to him. 



52 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

O, Sisters, who toil in the class-room 
On this little story reflect, 

And pray that your pupils be numbered 
Like Jim with the Savior's elect. 

Like Gene may they all be as faithful 
To lessons you daily impart, 

As true to their friends, and as loyal 
As he to the dear Sacred Heart. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 53 



OUR LOSS, HIS GAIN 

We do not prize God's golden light, 

Nor seem to know its worth, 
Until it fades away and leaves 

But darkness on the earth. 
"We value not fair Southern climes, 

Where every breeze blows warm, 
Until on some unsheltered wild 

We face the frigid storm. 

The fairest flowers we ever knew 

Are not in bloom today, 
Nor did we know they were so fair 

Before they died away. 
And thus it is with him we mourn — 

We did not know the worth 
Of that great soul which shed abroad 

God's sunshine o'er the earth. 

We did not value as we should 

That prince of saintly men, 
But took the gifts he freely gave, 

Nor knew their value then. 
In grief's great darkness, our poor hearts 

Now prize what they have lost, 
And know the value of those gifts 

And what the giving cost. 



54 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

The kindest voice we ever heard 

Is that which death has stilled, 
And oh, that heart of Christlike love 

The same cold hand has chilled. 
Then deem us not ungrateful still, 

Who sigh for him and weep 
Because the hands that toiled for us 

Repose in peaceful sleep. 

We would not call him back again 

To labor for us here, 
To sacrifice himself once more 

Our weary lives to cheer ; 
But we must raise our hearts to God 

And find our lost one there — 
The world is gloomy since he died, 

But heaven is more fair. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 55 



ST. MARTIN OF TOURS 

I've been thinking today of a picture 

That hung in an old-fashioned room, 
In the days when my heart was so lightsome, 

It mocked every shadow of gloom. 
'Twas the picture of Martin, the valiant, 

The noblest of soldiers in France, 
Who, to shelter a shivering beggar, 

Was parting his cloak with a lance. 

And I still can remember the legend, 

As told by the nurse so revered, 
How this act of the generous soldier 

So pleasing to Heaven appeared, 
That the dull, threatening sky of November 

Was flooded with glorious light, 
And the old world, so dark and so dreary, 

Again smiled resplendently bright. 

Ah ! no hero of song or of story 

To the heart of a child could appeal 
As Saint Martin, the kind-hearted soldier, 

Who thus for the lowly could feel. 
Do you wonder the heavens smiled o'er him y 

When having dispensed all his gold, 
He parted his own scarlet mantle 

To shelter the beggar from cold? 



56 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

May we practice this lesson you teach us, 

O, glorious Patron of Tours! 
May we merit God's smile of approval, 

AVhile helping the lowly and poor! 
By an act of disinterested kindness, 

We too can change darkness to light ; 
Just a word or a smile as we pass them, 

Makes many a dreary life bright. 

"We can make a blest sunlight shine round us, 

Without the assistance of gold ; 
And we warm our own hearts, when we lighten 

Some heart that is heavy and cold. 
O, that all men would study his picture, 

And learn from the Patron of Tours, 
That it does not detract from their valor 

To comfort the lowly and poor. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 57 



TO MOTHER 

We deck anew our Christmas Crib 

With holly green and bright, 
And think of how at Bethlehem, 

On this most blessed night, 
A Savior came in holy guise, 

To light our darksome earth, 
And hail as did the shepherds then, 

The new Messiah's birth. 

But oft these thoughts we interrupt, 

And with devotion true, 
We turn to Him and breathe a prayer, 

Our mother dear, for you ; 
For though we seldom see your face, 

Or hear your voice, so dear, 
The gratitude we owe to you, 

Is ever present here. 

And while we ask our Infant King 

To bless your Christmas Day, 
And grant your heart each fond desire, 

We also humbly pray 
That one bright inspiration, which 

This Christmas brings to you, 
May be to see your children here 

More often than you do. 



58 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 



THE SHEPHERDS 

In Bethlehem of Juda, 

The stars were shinging bright, 
"While shepherds on the mountains 

Watched o 'er their flocks by night. 
In David's famous city 

The thousands slept and dreamed, 
Perhaps, of the Messiah 

And Israel redeemed. 

The Promise of the prophets 

Though vague and undefined, 
The hope of future glory 

Filled every Jewish mind. 
But ah ! their proud hearts dreamed not 

That in the evening's gloom, 
They turned Him from their portals 

Because there was no room. 

No room for the Messiah, 

For God's eternal Son! 
The glory of the people, 

The longed-for Holy One! 
No room for the Messiah 

In either home or heart ; 
And so to them, the angel 

No message might impart. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

The shepherds on the mountain 

Were cold and needed sleep, 
Yet cheerfully they guarded 

Their flocks of drowsy sheep. 
Their hearts were warm and spacious 

And void of worldly pride ; 
If they could give, the needy 

Would never be denied. 

God knew that He was welcome 

To all they had on earth, 
And so to them the angel 

Announced the Savior's birth. 
They doubted not the message, 

And this was their reward : 
With Mary and with Joseph 

To worship Christ the Lord. 

Yes, they the humble shepherds 

Were first to kneel and pray 
With those who guarded Jesus 

That wond'rous Christmas Day. 
Dear child, we must be like them, 

If we today would bring 
A heart that's truly pleasing 

To Christ, the newborn King. 



59 



60 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



AN EASTER GREETING 

Once again we greet thee, mother, 

Fondly wishing no alloy 
May be mingled with the glory 

Of thy golden Easter joy. 
Through the holy Lenten season 

Faithfully for thee we prayed, 
And we sorrowed that the answer 

We so longed for was delayed; 
But we trust, as Easter gladness 

Follows the sad Passion Tide, 
So all cause of grief will vanish, 

And sweet peace with thee abide. 
We are longing, dearest Mother, 

For one glimpse of thy loved face, 
We are longing to behold thee 

In thine old accustomed place. 

Every lesson thou hast taught us 

Is remembered, Mother dear, 
All thy counsels to be earnest, 

Artless, loving and sincere. 
As the fragrant Easter lilies 

Lend their perfume to the air, 
From the hearts of thy fond children 

Rises sweet incense of prayer; 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 61 

And we know our dear Redeemer, 

Who so glorious today, 
Triumphs over death and darkness, 

Kindly listens while we pray. 
We will ask Him that this Easter 

May be filled with joy divine, 
That the holy peace of Heaven 

Now, and evermore, be thine. 



62 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 



THE SPOUSE OF CHRIST 

Another heart has ceased to beat, 

Another soul has flown 
To find new life within a Heart 

That claimed it as Its own ; 
A soul resplendent, broad and pure, 

Whose presence shed a light 
That would dispel the shades of doubt 

Were they as dark as night. 

In her we've lost a faithful friend 

Who sought the good of each, 
We've lost a loyal heart that warmed 

All hearts within its reach. 
Then censure not our bitter tears, 

For those who knew her worth 
Must grieve until they follow her 

To climes beyond the earth. 

A teacher in the truest sense, 

A strong and able guide, 
Whose very glance could draw weak souls 

With her to virtue's side, 
And, hold them willing captives there 

By her unswerving will ; 
She seemed unto their very lives 

Her own strength to instill. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 63 

A sister — all that sweet word means — 

She was, who fain would rob 
Herself of every joy to spare 

Our hearts one painful throb. 
No favor in her power to grant 

Was ever yet denied, 
And what her hand found not to give 

Her sympathy supplied. 

But she was more than all of these, 

Than sister, teacher, friend, — 
A spouse of Christ who ever sought 

His kingdom to extend. 
Vain glory had no part with her, 

And yet a holy pride 
Could never let her soul forget 

She was the Savior's bride. 

A humble child of Mary's Heart, 

Who gloried in the name; 
True Spouse of Christ whose honor was 

Her first and only aim. 
Love was the keynote of her life, 

Of all her noble deeds, 
And now secure in Love's abode, 

Can she forget our needs? 



64 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE LAMB ASTRAY 

The Shepherd seeks the lamb astray, 

With anxious, loving heart ; 
Although the ninety-nine remain, 

From one He would not part. 
He follows over weary heights, 

Wherever it may roam, 
Still hoping He may find His lamb 

And bear it safely home. 

The Shepherd seeks the lamb astray : 

Then how can we despise 
E'en souls that seem unworthiest 

To our weak mortal eyes? 
Let him who never sinned himself, 

Be first to cast a stone ; 
But let us help the shepherd find 

The lamb that is his own. 

The Shepherd seeks the lamb astray, 

And He may yet reclaim 
The soul from which we might recoil — 

The soul sunk deep in shame. 
If God withdrew from us today 

His strong preserving hand 
We, too, would fall, for none without 

His saving grace may stand. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 65 

Then let us love and pity all, 

No matter what they seem — 
Love all whom Calvary's Sacrifice 

Was offered to redeem. 
We know the Shepherd died for all, 

And can we close our heart 
Against a fellowman, and have 

With Jesus any part? 



66 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



HYMN TO ST. JOSEPH 

0, hear us, dear Saint Joseph, 

Who kneel to you in prayer, 
And seek your intercession, 

In every grief and care. 
The Holy Child of Nazareth, 

Has never yet denied, 
A favor to the Father, 

Who once His wants supplied. 

O, Holy Spouse of Mary, 

So patient and so mild, 
You are as dear to Jesus, 

As when He was a Child ; 
You still are loved as fondly, 

By Heaven's honored Queen, 
As when you both directed, 

The Sacred Nazarene. 

O, pray for us Saint Joseph, 

That we may die like you, 
On Jesus' heart reclining, 

And Mary with us too! 
Dear Patron of the dying, 

What can there be to fear, 
With such an intercessor, 

When death is drawing near? 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



MY MOTHER 

Though others may have failed to see 

A line of beauty there, 
To me my mother's patient face 

Was wonderfully fair. 
Those earnest eyes were wells of love 

From which my soul drank deep, 
And sweet and soothing is the voice 

I still hear in my sleep. 

My heart would break, did I not hope 

That in a little while, 
In God's eternal Home of Love, 

I'll see my mother's smile. 
My heart would break, did I not feel 

That she is near me still, 
Assisting me to humbly bow 

To God's most holy will; 

Assisting me to bravely bear 

The sorrow and the gloom 
In union with the Master's grief 

At Lazarus' holy tomb. 
Ah ! she would sacrifice her life 

To shield my heart from pain, 
And now her fond protecting love 

With me must still remain. 



67 



68 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Grod grant in thought, in word, or deed, 

I never may depart 
From precepts that she first instilled 

Into my wayward heart. 
In life, I could not bear to see 

A shadow on her brow, 
Then may no thoughtless act of mine 

Transgress her wishes now. 

My mother, you will pray for me, 

And pray for those whose grief 
Is heavier than mine to bear, 

Obtain for us relief. 
My father, sisters, brothers, all — 

Pray for us, mother mine! 
Watch over us, until with you 

We rest in Love Divine. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 69 



MARY OF THE MOUNT 

One lovely autumn afternoon, 

We reached the Poconos 
Where nature all her matchless gifts 

With lavish hand bestows. 
The mountains in their autumn garb 

Of scarlet, brown and gold, 
With here and there a tint of green, 

Were wond'rous to behold. 

And not less fair the distant scene 

In varied shades of blue, 
Off where the famous Water Gap 

Adds interest to the view. 
We passed around High Knob and gazed 

Adown the wooded glen, 
The like of which we may not see 

In this fair world again. 

They call that valley Paradise — 

'Tis worthy of the name — 
We fancied every crimson branch 

An angel sword aflame. 
Sweet are the legends men relate 

Of how the settlers came 
And gave that charming little glen 

Its still more charming name. 



70 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

O, they were noble pioneers 

Who bravely toiled along, 
And cheered each other on the way 

With strains of sacred song. 
Far over on the mountain side 

Within God's Acre green, 
They rest, who once like us admired 

The beauties of that scene. 

We fondly trust they live with God 

Who faithfully through life, 
Clung firmly to the holy Faith 

'Mid hardships, toils and strife. 
That they rejoice now to behold 

Far up the mountain height, 
The symbol of that living Faith 

Gleam out in golden light. 

It marks the soul-inspiring church, 

Saint Mary of the Mount, 
The dearest place in all that land 

Whose beauties I recount. 
Within that consecrated shrine, 

New beauties we beheld, 
Where rustic colors still prevailed, 

In softness unexcelled. 

There through the mullioned windows came 

The waves of tinted light 
And lit the marble altar fair. 

So perfect and so white. 
The statues placed on either side 

Possess a thousand charms: 
The Foster-father with the Child 

Reclining in his arms; 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 71 

And oh! sweet Mary of the Mount, 

Our Lady full of grace, — 
The sculptor surely was inspired 

Who wrought that life-like face. 
The pleading look in those calm eyes 

Would melt a heart of stone— 
What must it be to really stand 

Before her heavenly throne? 

In reverential awe, I knelt 

Before the altar fair, 
And thanked the Eucharistic God, 

Who deigns to linger there, 
For all the beauties I beheld 

In nature and in art, 
O, may they serve to draw men's souls 

Still closer to His Heart ! 



72 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THREE GIFTS 

God wrought three gifts for you, good child, 

Of Heaven's richest gold, 
And lo ! within your heart today 

These precious gifts you hold. 

The first is faith— child, guard it well, 

For woe will rule the day 
You let the wily sceptic steal 

That golden gift away. 

The next is Hope ; child, lose it not, 

For never can Despair 
Twine his cold fingers round your heart 

"While Hope is cherished there. 

The last is Love — the vital warmth 

Man 's soul must ever crave ; 
Ah ! child, it is the richest gift 

A good God ever gave. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 73 



NEXT SUMMER 

The snow drifted over the mountain 

And down through the long wooded glen„ 
So cold and so deep that we longed for 

The beautiful summer again. 
The river, last Maytime so merry, 

In ice bonds lay seemingly still, 
The snow-clouds were lowering above us, 

The west wind blew bitter and chill; 
The pine trees were sadly complaining, 

The squirrels had hidden away. 
Not even a snowbird made merry 

That gloomy and bleak winter day. 

The schoolgirls were out for an airing, 

And all, like the day, seemed depresed, 
Save Euth, who was chattering beside me, 

And striving to hearten the rest. 
Her cheeks were as red as June roses, 

Her dark eyes were sparkling and bright; 
Her smile, like a glorious sunshine, 

Bespoke a heart happy and light. 
When asked, "Can it be that you really 

Enjoy such a wild winter scene?" 
She answered: "Nay. Sister; I'm thinking 

Next summer the grass will be green. 



74 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

"Next summer the birds will be singing 

Up there in the greenest of trees, 
And down in the valley the flowers 

Will spread out a feast for the bees. 
Next summer the old Lackawanna 

Will sing as it dances along, 
To the lilies abloom on its borders, 

The merriest kind of a song. 
Think not that I love the wild winter; 

I prize not its cold icy sheen, 
But all the day long I am thinking 

Next summer the grass will be green.' ' 

Who thinks that this wee, merry maiden 
Is not a philosopher wise, 

Whose laudable method of thinking 
Deserves to receive the first prize? 

Oh, would that we all might be like her, 
For each has his season of grief, 

Though God, in His infinite mercy, 
Ordained that our sorrows be brief. 

With joy we can meet every trial 
And smile on the dreariest scene, 

If only, like Ruth, we remember- 
Next summer the grass will be green. 






IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 75 



THE SISTER'S SECRET 

Beneath an ivy-covered arch 

That screened the convent hall, 
A group of happy Sisters sat 

And watched the twilight fall. 
The day was spent in holy toil, 

And still more holy prayer, 
And now the recreation hour 

Found all assembled there. 

Still faintly shone the afterglow 

Of sunset in the west, 
And filled their minds with sacred thoughts, 

E'en in the hour of rest; 
And, gay or grave, whene'er they spoke, 

God's glory was the theme — 
The surest index that He ruled, 

Within their hearts supreme. 

They talked of poor, afflicted ones 

Who came for solace there, 
And one lamented that these souls 

Had many wrongs to bear. 
Another said, "Such crosses are 

True blessings in disguise, 
But I admit that they are saints 

Who can such blessings prize." 



76 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

At length an aged Sister spoke — 

She bore no single trace 
Of sorrow, care nor wasting time, 

Upon her sweet, calm face. 
"I've lived within these walls," she said, 

"For over forty years, 
And I have not received a cross 

In all that time, my dears. ' ' 

They looked at her in strange surprise; 

One asked, "How can it be, 
My sister, you have thus escaped, 

"When many fall to me?" 
"Perhaps," the kindly voice replied, 

"The secret lieth here: 
In all that time, I never crossed 

The Will of God, my dear." 

O, happy secret ! could it reach 

Each saddened soul on earth, 
There might be far less sighs and tears, 

And far more smiles and mirth ; 
For we may gather thorns or flowers, 

In joys or sorrows share; 
It rests with us — make God's will ours, 

And then no cross we bear. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 77 



A PRAYER FOR FRANCE 

Jesus, God of love and mercy, 
Deign to turn a gracious glance 

On the loyal-hearted children, 
Suffering for You in France. 

Pity them, 0, Lord ! and pity 
All the poor, misguided tools 

Whom Your wily foe is using 
To enforce satanic rules. 

Let your grace pervade the darkness 
That enshrouds the souls of those, 

Who, deluded by their passions, 
Would the Source of light oppose. 

France has seen again repeated 

That sad tragedy of old; 
Her Iscariots have bartered, 

And betrayed their God for gold. 

Yea, sweet Jesus, they have sold You 
For the sake of worldly gain; 

They would banish You forever, 
Some slight profit to obtain. 



T8 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

Banish You! O, Jesus! Jesus! 

Stay with France ! this is our prayer ; 
Though they close each church and chapel, 

Living temples still are there. 

Stay with France, enshrined securely 
In the hearts that still are true, 

Loyal hearts that cling more fondly, 
In their sad distress to You. 

Mary, Mother ! Help of Christians ! 

By the favors you procured 
For the faithful who have sought you 

In the holy shrine of Lourdes, 

We implore your intercession 

For the land the Church holds dear. 

For the favored Eldest Daughter,— 
Jesus will your pleadings hear. 

May this cruel persecution 
Serve His honor to advance ! 

May the Faith we love still nourish, 
As of old, in Christian France ! 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 79 



A CHRISTMAS DREAM 

Her morning task yet uncompleted, 

Our dear, little bonny-faced lass 
Sat still in the study-room smiling 

Although it was time for her class, 
She blushed when she saw I observed her 

And hastily came to my side ; 
"O, Sister, I really can't study, 

Because I'm so happy!" she cried. 

"I'm waiting all morning to tell you, 

I dreamed of the infant last night, — 
The really Divine, little infant, 

All framed in a halo of light. 
My father I dreamed was a shepherd, 

And I was a shepherdess, too, 
And played on the hills of Judea, 

As any young Jewess might do. 

"And just like St. Luke's holy Gospel, 

"We came out the night watch to keep, 
And I and some more little children 

Were helping take care of the sheep. 
But while we were watching, the heavens 

Were flooded with beautiful light, 
And then came an angel band singing 

The hymn we were learning last night. 



80 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

"Soon one of the bright throng descending, 

Came all the way down to the earth, 
And telling us not to be frightened, 

Announced the Emmanuel's birth. 
Then, 'Glory to God in the highest!' 

Re-echoed all over the hill, 
And lo ! they repeated the message 

"And peace to all men of good will." 

"Then slowly the darkness enclosed them 

Till only the stars twinkled through ; 
And one of the shepherds said softly : 

'Come down and we'll see if it's true.' 
To Bethlehem every one hastened, 

And entering the grotto, so bare 
We knew that the angel spoke truly 

For Mary and Joseph were there. 

"St. Joseph looked somewhat like grandpa, 

But dressed like that statue, you see ; 
And smiled with his eyes just as he does 

"Whenever he's talking to me. 
And Mary, the dear blessed Mother ! 

I've dreamed of fair faces before, . 
But never of anything like her, 

Or like the sweet smile that she wore. 

"One glance and we knew we were welcome ; 

Then all of us knelt down and prayed, 
And though I was near to the cattle, 

I wasn't the least bit afraid. 
And soon I crept close to the manger, 

And found, nestled down in the straw, 
The sweetest and rosiest Baby 

That anyone ever yet saw. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 81 

"I couldn't help touching the Darling, 

So little and yet so Divine, 
And leaning right over the manger, 

I clasped His soft fingers in mine, 
And whispered, '0, dear little Jesus, 

Please keep me forever with You ! ' 
He opened His eyes and looked at me — 

O, Sister, I wish it were true ! 

"I wish He would look at me always 

With love shining out of His eyes ; 
I never again will be frightened 

Or sorry when any one dies. 
Then please do not talk about study 

But come to the chapel and pray 
That when we are dying, sweet Jesus 

Will look at us both in that way." 

L.Envoi. 
I trust that your dreams, little children, 

Will all be as holy and fair ; 
And Oh ! may I hope you include me 

In some such a beautiful prayer? 



82 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



A PRIEST FOREVER 

A day of joy has dawned for you, 

The chief of joyous days; 
And it is meet that we rejoice 

And sing God's holy praise. 
You have responded to His call, 

The whispered, "Follow Me," 
That filled the chosen few with zeal 

In ancient Galilee. 

You loved the beauty of His house, 

His tabernacles fair; 
And now the right is yours to dwell 

In union with Him there. 
To be His loved ambassador 

Might have your hopes sufficed, 
But Mother Church proclaims you now, 

Her priest, — another Christ. 

Another Christ, whom she has sent 

Immortal souls to save, 
To give again the holy gifts 

That He so freely gave, 
Another Christ to draw men's souls 

Close to His Sacred Heart, 
To reproduce His life in theirs — 

The aim of Christian art. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 83 

Another Christ, empowered by 

The very words you speak, 
To raise the weary weight of sin 

Prom souls oppressed and weak. 
And, thought sublime! empowered to call, 

E'en God from His bright throne, 
And place Him in the hearts of men 

To be their very own. 

But oh ! the crowning joy of all 

Is that a God should deem 
Man worthy of those rights divine, 

Immortal and supreme. 
Immortal, for the impress made 

Upon your soul today, 
The everlasting seal of God 

Shall never pass away. 

"A priest forever!" Oh! what joy 

This one great thought procures 
For her whose deathless mother-love 

Is so entirely yours. 
A prelude of eternal bliss 

Thrills through her fond heart now, 
As your annointed hand is placed 

In blessings on her brow. 

We come to claim your blessing too, 

Whose hearts with hers rejoice, 
Who pray that God may multiply 

For you each blessing choice; 
That ever faithful to the trust 

You have received today, 
You may draw countless souls to walk 

Where you will lead the way. 



84 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



A TALE OF THE CHOCONUT 
VALLEY 

In old Choconut so lovely, 

Land of lakes and rippling rills, 
With its famous woods and valleys, 

And its sunny, sloping hills, 
Where the stream from Stanley's Fishery 

Winds around a gentle hill, 
Where the birch still now is standing, 

Just above the Nugent Mill, 
Years ago there stood a schoolhouse, 

Built of logs and chinked with clay, — 
Eude 'twould seem and unattractive 

To the children of today. 



But what child can hear the stories 

Of the wond'rous sport and fun. 
That this dear old schoolhouse witnessed, 

And not wish that he were one 
Of the three score, who had gathered 

Round its fire one cold March day 
Sixty years ago this winter, 

So our good old neighbors say. 
That had been the "hardest" winter, 

Ever pioneer had known ; 
All along the lanes and by-ways, 

Snow banks six feet deep had grown. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 85 

Every wall and fence was covered, 

Hidden were the hillocks low, 
And the country seemed an ocean 

Of resplendent, dazzling snow. 
Every shrub and tree was draped in 

Fairy robes of spotless white, — 
True, the landscape made a picture 

Very pleasing to the sight; 
But though fair, the snow proved fatal 

To the tenants of the wood, 
And the poor beasts sought the farm yards 

In their eager search for food. 

Though the wolf, the bear and panther, 

Roamed no more our native hill, 
Yet the red deer, lithe and graceful 

■ Lingered in the forest still ; 
And the deep snow proved as quicksand 

To these pretty, luckless deer, 
Yes, the creatures died by dozens 

In its cruel grasp that year. 
We are told the lucky hunters, 

Prom the forest oft would drive 
Fettered deer that they had captured 

In the crusted drifts alive. 

Still there dwells in Choconut Centre, 

One whom I have heard relate. 
How her brother had a deer park 

On the Chamberlain estate; 
How he tended deer all winter, 

As a dairyman his cows, 
Hauling hay and other fodder, 

For the grateful herd to browse, 
And what makes the story sweetest, 

Is that he one bright spring day, 
When the snow drifts all had melted, 

Let the pretty deer awj 



86 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Back they bounded to the forest, 

Sought again their native glen — 
Don't you think the old-time hunters 

Really were kind-hearted men? 
Pardon me ! I 've been digressing 

From the schoolhouse by the mill, 
Which, my dear, of all deer stories, 

Is the dearest story still. 
It so happened that those children, 

Out snowballing at recess, 
Chanced to hear the plaintive bleating 

Of a red deer in distress. 

Eagerly they went to seek it, 

And half buried in the snow, 
Soon they found the helpless creature, 

In the valley just below. 
Then the boldest of the party, 

One who scorned the name of fear, 
Won the others' admiration, 

As he mounted that wild deer; 
While they tramped the snow about him, 

Urging loud the strange steed on, 
Some more cautious, kept repeating: 

"He may kick! Be careful, John!" 

Well, the deer plunged forward slowly, 

Till it reached the beaten track, 
Then away like lighting bounded, 

With the schoolboy on its back. 
Up the hill, and down the valley — 

O, it was the wildest race! 
But the noble boy clung firmly, 

With the most intense embrace. 
And the rider still is wondering 

Just how far that deer would go, 
If it had not chanced to stumble 

In another bank of snow. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 87 

Then that band of fearless youngsters, 

Dauntless sons of pioneers, 
Gathered once more round their captive, 

While the woods rang with their cheers. 
Half a dozen others rode him, 

And the sport was relished well, 
But they "turned him out to pasture," 

When the teacher rang the bell. 
Time has changed that noted valley; 

Now the forest dense lies low, 
And it lacks the sweet wild flavor, 

It possessed so long ago. 

Sixty years have left their traces 

On each sunny slope and lea; 
Stately dwellings grace the homesteads 

Where the log huts used to be. 
Now our modern schoolboy revels 

On his skates of glinting steel, 
Or perhaps spins round the ice track 

On a famous "Ben Hur" wheel. 
He, no doubt, is truly grateful 

Such sweet treasures to possess; 
But he'll never ride a wild deer 

Up the turnpike at recess. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 89 



MY OLD COUNTRY HOME 

Hedged in by a long line of hemlock, 

It stands on a green, sloping hill, 
My old-fashioned home in the country, 

So dear to my memory still. 
The orchard yet clusters around it, 

Where robins and bluebirds make free 
To nest in the sheltering branches, 

And argue their right to each tree. 
No music can ever outrival 

The concerts those songsters hold there, 
"When strains of their beautiful matins 

Ring out on the clear morning air. 

High over the orchard, twin spruce trees, 

Like sentinels standing on guard, 
Look down on the Choconut waters 

That once woke the strains of our bard. 
And scarcely less stately the locusts 

That arch o'er the maple trees tall, 
Where lilacs make fragrant the spring-time, 

And mountain ash brightens the fall. 
The spring and the Cherry-tree Garden, 

The old watering trough and the lane, 
The sweet briar bush and the alders 

My lasting affection still claim. 



90 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Old Ringwood, the guard of the pasture, 

Where Matchless such great honors gained, 
And Daisy, our proud piebald beauty, 

As queen of the paddock once reigned; 
The chestnut trees up by the graveyard, 

The dreaded Ghost Hollow, between 
The real haunted bridge and the village, 

Where never a spirit was seen; 
The ranch and the little white schoolhouse, 

The black cherry grove on the hill, 
And Fairy Land down in the pine wood, 

My mind with sweet memories fill. 

But more than all others, I cherish 

My own favorite haunt by the lake, 
Where laurel and winter-green mingle 

With maiden-hair fern and wild brake. 
There often I wandered in May-time 

And gathered the spring-beauty sweet, 
To bring to the church in the village 

And lay at the dear Virgin's feet. 
Oh! happy the days that I spent there — 

The days of the sweet long ago ; 
And happy the dreams that I dreamed there, 

The dreams that but childhood can know. 

God bless my old home in the country! 

And bless those who still linger there, 
The loved ones whose names are repeated 

In many and many a prayer. 
God bless those who left the old homestead, 

Yet think of it fondly tonight, 
Whose smiles are now missed in the circle 

That once was so sunny and bright. 
God grant we may yet be united. 

No matter how far we may roam ; 
May no one be missing in Heaven, 

Who lived in my old country home. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 91 



A GREETING TO THE VETERANS 

OF THE GRAND ARMY OF 

THE REPUBLIC 

0, veterans who fought for the Union, 

We tender a welcome to you, 
A welcome sincere and whole-hearted 

To every brave soldier in blue. 
When torn by dissension, our nation 

Stood tottering and ready to fall, 
She called in her need for assistance 

And you bravely answered the call; 
For love of your country and justice, 

You sacrificed all that was dear — 
What wonder we deem it an honor 

To welcome each veteran here. 

Yes, proudly we welcome the heroes 

Who fought for so holy a cause, 
Who fought for their down-trodden brethren, 

Unmindful of spoils or applause. 
Our own St. Cecilia's inculcates 

A love for the noble and brave, 
Esteem for the men who imperil 

Their own lives another's to save. 
And, veterans, we know well your story, 

Pathetic, soul-stirring, and grand; 
We know how you suffered and struggled 

When war tides swept over the land. 



92 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Our young hearts oft thrilled with emotion, 

Recalling the grand "Sixty-three"; 
When Liberty's angel recorded: 

"Three millions of slaves are set free." 
The glory of that proclamation 

Erased from our land its worst stain; 
But, veterans, without your assistance 

Good Lincoln had spoken in vain. 
Without the Grand Army, our nation. 

Now proud of her glorious name, 
Might blush for the dark crime of slavery 

And fold her free colors in shame. 

Thank God that the Grand Army conquered, 

Though hundreds of thousands were lost! 
But oh! when the cause is fair Freedom's 

No patriot thinks of the cost. 
You marched through the smoke of the battle 

When musket and cannon flashed death, 
Determined to save the dear Union, 

Or give for her sake your last breath. 
While martyrs were falling around you 

Whose graves we shall garland today, 
You murmured a prayer for the dying, 

And steadfastly worked through the fray. 

The struggle was irksome and bitter; 

The men of the Southland were brave,— 
Ay, many a noble heart moldered 

To dust in a lone rebel's grave. 
But braver by far were the soldiers 

Who stood on the side of the right ; 
Who knew that defeat meant disaster, 

Who fought as but patriots fight. 
And God blessed the strong Union forces 

Blessed them and their glorious cause; 
They conquered and won for our country 

Forever the wide world's applause. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 93 

Your herohood long has been proven, 

You need not our tribute of praise; 
The knowledge of duty accomplished 

Is sweeter than garlands of bays. 
The angels in Heaven might envy 

The humblest of men who are blest 
With the memory of hardships and trials 

Endured for the weak and oppressed. 
The nation in gratitude blesses 

The Grand Army year after year; 
And we, too, invoke benedictions 

On all whom we now welcome here. 



94 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE IRISH-AMERICAN 

I never stood on Irish ground, 

Nor breathed the balmy air 
That blows across old Ireland's hills 

And through her valleys fair. 
I never saw Killarney's lakes. 

Nor sweet Avoca's streams, 
I never gazed on Cashel Rock 

Except in holy dreams; 
And yet I prize each inch of ground 

That dear St. Patrick blessed, 
And next to fair America, 

I love old Ireland best. 

Columbia claims no fonder child, 

No patriot more true— 
I'd die for any star that glows 

Upon her flag's fair blue. 
The Celtic blood within my veins 

Is thrilled with honest pride 
When I behold the Stars and Stripes 

That tyranny defied ; 
And yet there's room within my heart 

For Erin's green and gold, 
The colors which my fathers would 

With holy pride unfold. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 95 

My fathers, who for flag and Faith 

Have fought and freely bled, — 
0, tell me not the cause is lost 

For which their blood was shed! 
Does not the deathless Irish Faith 

In Ireland still remain? 
Do not the scions of that race 

This priceless boon retain? 
The green and gold are loved today 

As fondly as of yore ; 
And who would not rejoice to see 

Old Ireland free once more? 



96 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 



THE GOLDEN JUBILEE 

Dear Sister, will you not accept 
One flower of thought from me, 

And place it in the golden crown, 
Of your glad Jubilee? 

A flower culled long years ago 

When your young heart renounced 

The world with all that it contained, 
And your sweet Vows pronounced. 

Pull fifty years have passed since then 

And still your heart is leal 
To Him who placed upon your soul 

His everlasting seal. 

Your self-renouncement was complete, 
You chose the "better part" — 

Your first and only aim to please 
The bridegroom of your heart. 

O, Sister, you may well rejoice! 

The golden crown is won, 
And Jesus whispers to your soul, 

"My faithful spouse, well done!" 

I pray the brightness of your joy 

Dear one, may never fade 
Till on your brow a lasting crown 

By sacred hands is laid. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 97 



MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY 

In childhood days with eager heart, 

I hailed the dawn of May, 
The first of Mary's sacred month 

And mother's natal day. 
The meaning of this double feast 

I cannot yet define, 
But then it meant so much to me, 

So much to me and mine ; 
For mother's Birthday was a feast 

Especially her own, 
The only day on which she reigned 

Prom off her regal throne. 

She was our blue-eyed Queen of May; 

With joy we dressed her hair, 
That was as fair a golden crown 

As any queen might wear; 
And in its shining strands we twined 

The English violets blue ; 
Oh! how she loved the mossy wood 

Wherein these blossoms grew ! 
The pure white flowers she prized so well, 

Our mother would not wear; 
They were reserved for Mary's shrine, 

Where oft she knelt in prayer. 



98 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

I still can see her wond'rous smile 

When father made a speech, 
Can see her graciously accept 

A Birthday gift from each. 
And with what blissful secrecy 

We planned those gifts to buy, 
More blest to give than to receive 

But then we knew not why. 
0, loved ones, we can send her gifts 

More beautiful today,— 
Rare gems of prayer with which to crown 

Once more our Queen of May. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 99 



TO A GRADUATE 

You stand with wistful heart tonight 

Beside an open gate, 
Through which you are so soon to pass, 

"A sweet girl graduate." 
The road o'er which you are to tread 

Is wrapped in rosy haze, 
You know not whether it will wind 

Through dark or sunny ways. 

But let that road be what it may, 

I have no fears for you, 
If only you will keep, dear girl, 

The final end in view. 
And if at times you find it rough, 

If thorns should block your way, 
Think of the Home to which it leads, 

Where you shall rest some day. 

You stand beside the open gate, 

Reluctant to depart, 
For love of Alma Mater beats 

"Warm in your faithful heart. 
The Alma Mater that infused 

Into your mind and soul 
A wealth of knowledge that will help 

You reach the distant goal. 



100 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Faith. Hope, and Charity divine, — 

More valued than the rest, — 
Will brighten all your future years 

And make life's ending blest. 
Be ever what you are today, 

And none need fear for you, — 
A self-reliant character, 

Strong, womanly and true. 

Through tear-dimmed eyes you look around 

On classmates ne'er so dear, 
So indispensable, as when 

The parting hour draws near. 
You turn to teachers, faithful friends — 

'Tis hard to say farewell, — 
'Tis hard to think no more you'll hear 

The sweet-toned convent bell. 

But He who taught in Galilee 

"Will be your Teacher still; 
Then be His docile pupil, child, 

Submissive to His will. 
Oh ! may He bless you every day, 

And keep you in His school ! 
And may you find eternal joy 

In following His rule. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 101 



SANCTA ROSA 

Sweet Sancta Rosa, can it be, 

Within thy safe retreat, 
That any pleasure not of God 

Can ever seem replete? 
How can distractions fill my mind, 

Or vanity conspire 
To draw my thoughts away from God 

By any vain desire? 

How can I sigh for absent friends, 

That ever have been dear, 
And know the King of Heavenly Hosts, 

The Savior, dwelleth here? 
0, Mother of sweet Jesus, pray 

That ever to the end 
My heart may cherish Him alone, 

My one unchanging Friend ! 

Can I regret the worldly home 

That once I thought so fair, 
And know there is no holy shrine, 

No tabernacle there? 
Sweet Sancta Rosa, with thy help 

My heart no more shall roam 
From thy revered Novitiate, 

My dearest earthly home. 



102 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE DEAD SHEPHERD 

It fell in the noon of his manhood, 

The death-dew, like ice on his brow, 
And chilled the great heart of the shepherd, 

Whom thousands are mourning for now. 
Too soon has this fatal dew fallen, 

And well may our hearts grieve as one ; 
Too soon, for his work is unfinished — 

The work he so grandly begun. 

Too soon ! it is selfish to say it ! 

Ah! has he not merited rest? 
His God-given task is completed, 

And now he is crowned with the blest. 
Death brings the reward of his labors, 

His sufferings so silently borne, 
And self-sacrificing devotion, 

To us whom he leaves here to mourn. 

Our poor human hearts that he counseled 

In all things to welcome God's will, 
Are breaking today — not rebelling, 

For he is their counselor still. 
0, Thou who didst mourn over Lazarus! 

Thou knowest the depth of our grief; 
Thy heart understands as no other, 

To thee, then, we turn for relief. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 1Q3 

He taught us, in every affliction, 

Thy infinite mercy to see ; 
In death, as in life, he would draw us, 

Still closer, sweet Jesus, to Thee. 
None other can comfort our sorrow, 

None other can lighten the gloom,— 
And, 0, they need comfort and sunshine, 

Whose hearts are with him in the tomb ! 



104 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 



CHRISTIAN FAITH 

("The fairest thing in life is death.") 

With gladsome smiles she welcomed death, 

She who so oft had prayed: 
"In my last hour, 0, Jesus, be 

My comfort and my aid!" 
She who repeated o'er and o'er 

So many times a day : 
"When death draws near, 0, Virgin fair, 

Be with me then, I pray!" 

My confidence has been increased 

Since I beheld her die, 
And saw the bright smile on her lip, 

The joy-light in her eye. 
E'en death itself was powerless 

Her soul's fair hope to dim, — 
Nay, God could not forsake her then, 

Who had so trusted Him. 

The aim of her sweet life was this: 

To fit her soul to meet 
God as a Friend, when she should stand 

Before His judgment seat. 
That "As we live, so shall we die," 

Was truly proven there; 
Her life was beautiful, but oh! 

Her death was still more fair. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 105 



THE STORY FIEND 

Friend, should you know a story fiend 

Whose eyes are blue and bright, 
Then you can sympathize with me, — 

I meet one every night. 
Though Thomas Cyril is his name, 

The children call him Tom, 
And everybody bows to him, 

No matter where he's from. 

When twilight deepens into night 

He lies in wait for me, 
And makes mp tell about the boy 

Who ran away to sea; 
And then about Red Ridinghood, 

And Jack and Tiny Bear, 
And Christmas and the angels, too, 

With shining wings and hair. 

When these are all recounted, then 

He whispers: "If you please, 
I'd like to hear about the mouse 

That stole the piece of cheese ; 
And then about the Guinea Pigs, 

The Little Boy in Blue, 
The Bean Stalk that belonged to Jack, 

And Cinderella too." 



106 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

The most despotic tyrant this 

That ever yet was seen, 
In vain I plead I want to write. 

Or read a magazine; 
I'd like, perhaps, to take a walk, 

Or ride or drive, or skate : 
"You can't!" the story fiend will cry, 

"You know it is too late. 

" 'Tis story time," he will insist, 

The stars are coming out; 
The fairies are abroad, you know, 

And witches all about. 
I would not dare to let you go; 

So stay just where you are, 
And tell about Old Mother Goose, 

The Cat and the Guitar. 

"Goliath and the Shepherd Boy, 

And Jonathan and Saul, 
Old Santa and his reindeer too,— 

Yes, tell about them all." 
Friend, should you meet this story fiend 

Just at the close of day, 
Then you will know the reason why 

My hair is turning gray. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 107 



NEVER LEAVE THE FARM 

Is it true that you are thinking 

Of the city far away, 
From your rural friends are shrinking? 

I was told 'tis so, today. 
Boy, it grieved my old heart sadly, 

Ay, and filled me with alarm, 
Thus to learn that you would gladly 

Leave the homestead — leave the farm. 

That you fain would seek for pleasures, 

Seek for honor, wealth and gold, 
And the many other treasures 

City life is thought to hold. 
If the native hills you're scorning, 

I have reason for alarm — 
Listen to your father's warning: 

Johnny, never leave the farm. 

Quench the flame of this ambition, 
E'er it burns your peace away; 

Others sought a like transition 
And have lived to rue the day; — 

Others, reared in air untainted 
By the deadly breath of crime, 

Whose integrity has fainted 

Mid the city's baneful grime. 



108 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

You remember how our neighbor 

Sent his brilliant boy away; 
He for wealth and fame would labor — 

Where's that brilliant boy today? 
Thousands more are surely sinking 

Who have stumbled on the shoals, 
While of worldly honors thinking 

They have wrecked their precious souls. 

You may feel that you are stronger, 

More determined in the right. 
You, perchance, might battle longer, 

But at last might lose the fight. 
Crime may often undetected 

Have in what seems good its source, 
And before we half suspect it 

We are on the downward course. 

I am nearing life's December, 

You have scarcely passed its May; 
Time has taught me, boy, remember, 

What I'd have you learn today. 
If you'd shun the way of danger, 

And in peace would find a charm, 
If to vice you'd be a stranger, 

Johnny, never leave the farm. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 109 



AN EASTER WISH 

Dearest friend, the Easter lilies 
Mingle now their perfume sweet 

With the passion-flowers we gathered 
At the suffering Savior's feet. 

Magdalen once more is smiling, 

After all her bitter tears ; 
She has heard the angel's message, 

And her heart no longer fears. 

Israel's fair rose, sweet Mary, 

Mother of the Chosen One, 
Clasps again in holy rapture, 

Her Redeemer and her Son. 

All the sorrows, all the sufferings, 
That were prophesied are o'er, 

And the heart that broke on Calvary 
Throbs with grief and pain no more. 

Where the other Marys with her, 
Knelt the first bright Easter Day, 

I, in spirit, kneel this morning, 
Friend of mine, for you to pray. 



110 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

And in this glad hour of triumph, 
While the "Alleluias" ring, 

Claim for you a special blessing 
From our newly-risen King. 

May this blessing be a prelude 
Of the deep, eternal bliss, 

That awaits His loyal subjects 
In a better life than this! 



IDYLS OP LAKE 1 1 1 



A WORD OF CHEER 

When skies are dark and winds blow chill 

And all the world seems wrong, 
Then let the harp's sweet music thrill 

And sing a merry song. 
There's magic in the human voice, 

A pow'r for good or ill; 
A glad song makes the heart rejoin-. 

Then sing it with a will. 

No day is dark to those who wear 

A glad heart-warming smile, 
To them, though skies be dark or fair, 

The sun shines all the while. 
The sunny smile, the gladsome voice, 

Bespeak the righteous heart; 
Then learn at all times to rejoice, 

For this is Christian art. 

He who has learned to know the worth 

Of broad, unselfish lo 
Has God as near to him on earth 

As to the saints above. 
With sadness make no compromise, 

No compromise with care, — 
There's boundless joy in Paradise. 

And we are going there. 



112 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



LITTLE THINGS 

It is not from deeds heroic 

That the greatest pleasure springs, 
And the source of good or evil 

Lies, my dear, in little things. 
Every smile of recognition, 

Every kindly word you say, 
Helps to cheer and strengthen others 

Whom you meet along the way. 
And perhaps the soul encouraged 

By the sweetness of your speech, 
May repeat the same to hearten 

Those your voice could never reach. 

O, so much of joy and gladness 

On a little act depends ! 
On a thoughtful letter written 

To some alien far from friends, 
Or a fragrant flower given 

To a sick, neglected child, — 
Deeds like these produce more pleasure 

Than the deepest books compiled; 
And one prayerful aspiration 

Springing from a fervent heart, 
May procure a grace more precious 

Than the grandest work of art. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE H3 

Just a kindly explanation, 

Given as you pass along, 
Or a little word of warning. 

May prevent an endless wrong. 
Just a tiny seed of discord 

Long-united friends may part, 
And a scornful glance can scatter 

Every hope from some fond heart. 
We have known fair reputations 

Withered by detraction's breath, 
And a poisonous word to render 

Wounds more pitiless than death. 

Great results that spring from trifles 

To eternity extend, 
And upon a little action 

Our salvation may depend. 
Just one sigh of true contrition 

Coming from the dying soul, 
Many years estranged from Heaven, 

And it reaches that bright goal. 
Seek not then for great distinction 

Or the bays that honor brings, 
But remember, joy unending 

Can be bought with little things. 



114 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



A VISIT TO THE BLESSED SACRAMENT 

Kneeling in Thy holy presence, 

God of glory and of love ! 
E'en the angels are not nearer 

To Thy throne of light above. 

Weary was my soul, and saddened 
Ere I sought Thy side to pray, 

But the weariness and sadness 
Brought to Thee, soon fade away. 

Here all anxious care must vanish, 
Here all troubled thoughts must cease; 

Here and only here, sweet Jesus, 
Can my soul find perfect peace. 

Draw me nearer to Thee, Jesus, 

Nearer to Thy Sacred Heart,— 
Whisper words of comfort to me, 

For too soon must I depart. 

Oh, how wondrous is Thy mercy 

In allowing me the bliss 
To approach, though all unworthy, 

Claiming love from Thee, like this. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 115 

Love like this, 0, sweetest Savior! 

All this love was ever mine, — 
Would that I could tell Thee, truly, 

That my love was ever Thine! 

But alas! my heart forsook Thee, 

Mocked, denied, betrayed and scorned, 

Helped to weave the crown of torture 
"Which Thy sacred brow adorned. 

Yes, my sins, I know, sweet Savior, 

Doomed Thee to a cruel death, 
Yet Thou didst forgive me freely, 

Even with Thy dying breath. 

Heart Divine, Thy love was strongest, 
Most sublime, most pure, and true, 

When Thou saidst : "Forgive them, Father, 
For they know not what they do." 

Knew I not? 0, Jesus, Jesus! 

My ingratitude I own; 
Now, the heart that crucified Thee, 

Beats for Thee and Thee alone. 

Teach me how to love Thee better, 

Teach me how to prove my love, 
That the world may know I truly 

Worship Thee all else above. 



116 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Teach, 0, teach me how to thank Thee 
For Thy graces, I implore, 

For each time I seek Thy presence 
I receive still more and more. 



And today, my dear Redeemer, 
I must ask more favors still : 

Bless my cold, weak heart, and make it 
More submissive to Thy will. 

Bless my kind and faithful mother, 
Bless my sisters, fond and dear, 

Give us grace, in Thy sweet service 
Faithfully to persevere. 

And the loved ones, who are struggling 
In the world of grief and strife ; 

Lead them tenderly and safely 
To Thy bright eternal Life. 

Light the friends, who still are groping 
In the darkness, bleak and cold, 

That they, soon, may know and love Thee, 
Shepherd of the one true Fold. 

With the souls of the departed, 
Who are waiting my appeal 

To Thy mercy, for their ransom, 
Dearest Jesus, kindly deal. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 117 

Grant, my Savior, I may greet them 

In that holy resting place, 
Flooded by Thy love, and lighted 

By the glory of Thy face. 

There, when gazing on Thy beauty, 

With Thy holy Mother, fair, 
May no dear one then be missing, 

But may all I love be there. 

Duty calls me now to leave Thee, 

'Tis Thy will that I should go ; 
Of the dangers and temptations 

That await me, Thou dost know. 

Every thought, each word I utter, 

All I suffer or endure, 
I now offer Thee, dear Jesus, — 

0, make each intention pure. 

Wilt Thou, in return, sweet Savior, 

Give Thy child the grace to see, 
Where to pluck love's choicest flowers, 

As an offering meet for Thee? 

I must leave Thee, King and Lover, 

But my heart remains with Thee, 
And I know where e'er I wander, 

Thy sweet Spirit watches me. 



118 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



BESIDE THE CARMALT 

The autumn leaves are falling 

In clouds of brown and gold, 
And restless birds are calling 

Sweet notes across the wold; 
The harvest has been garnered, 

But where the Carmalt flows, 
The scarlet flash of mountain-ash 

Through pine and hemlock glows. 

And like a flaming mirror. 

This fairest mere I know 
Reflects the tawny amber 

With which the maples glow ; 
Reflects the glowing splendor 

Of brush and wood and cloud, 
Whose red and gold and shades untold 

The Choconut hills enshroud. 

I stood beside the Carmalt 

One morning long ago ; 
Then shone the sun at dawning 

As now when sinking low, 
And then, in life's fair morning. 

Aglow with love and hope, 
My brother walked with me, and talked, 

Adown the wooded slope. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 119 

Our hearts were light, and laughter 

Re-echoed o'er the wave; 
But now the leaves are falling 

Around his silent grave. 
My heart now loves to linger 

And dream about him here, 
While like sweet balm the fall birds'* psalm 

Still soothes my listening ear. 

Of deathless love and glory 

He spoke that autumn dawn, 
Of union with the Master 

To whom his heart was drawn. 
He taught my soul, that never 

Is earthly joy complete, 
That peace, divine cannot be mine 

Until in God we meet. 



10 



120 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE RECEPTION 

Sweet Lord, the happy day has come 

When prostrate at Thy throne, 
I give unto Thy hands the heart 

That beats for Thee alone, 
And promise with an eager joy, 

That none shall share with Thee 
The love Thou hast a right to claim 

Forevermore from me ; 
For my ambition is to be 

A Child of Mary's heart, 
And my one happiness to dwell, 

Sweet Jesus, where Thou art. 

I lay aside my worldly robes, 

To wear the Habit Blue, 
And snowy veil, that all may know 

I am Thy novice true;' 
And with Thy grace and Mary's aid, 

I too will lay aside 
All else that savors of the world, 

Its pleasures and its pride; 
For my ambition is to be 

A Child of Mary's Heart, 
And my one happiness to dwell, 

Sweet Jesus, where Thou art. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 121 

Jesus, clothe my soul anew 

With innocence and grace, 
So naught, save love for Thee and Thine 

May in my heart find place. 
May I be worthy to become 

Thy loyal spouse, sweet Love, 
Deserving rest eternally 

With Thee in Heaven above; 
For my ambition is to be 

A Child of Mary's Heart, 
And my one happiness to dwell 

Sweet Jesus, where Thou art. 



122 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE SILVER JUBILEE 

A day of boundless joy has dawned 

That marks the silver close 
Of five and twenty years with Him, 

The Master Whom you chose. 
The Master! O, sweet attribute! 

Yet sweeter He allows,— 
Your Friend, your Savior, and far more 

Than all of these, — your Spouse. 
With Him and for Him, every day 

Of all these well-spent years, 
The work, the watching, and repose, 

The sunshine and the tears. 

Yes, five and twenty years have passed, 

Since with your holy vows, 
You forged the golden chains that bind 

You close to this loved Spouse. 
You gladly sacrificed the world 

And all it had to give, 
And sought but one great privilege — 

Henceforth with Him to live. 
With trembling voice you offered then 

A heart both warm and leal, 
Resolved to labor for His cause 

In works of holy zeal. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 123 

A snow-white wreath you wore that day, 

The symbol of a bride, 
And now a silver crown proclaims 

A love more sanctified. 
Five lustrums spent for God alone, 

That silver crown has won, 
And even now your Sacred Spouse 

Speaks to your heart: "Well done!" 
O, Sister, may the joy and peace 

He showers on you now 
Increase, until a fadeless crown 

Is placed upon your brow ! 



124 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE CHURCH OF ST. THOMAS 
AQUINAS, ARCHBALD 

The Church of Saint Thomas Aquinas, 

Rare pictures and statues adorn, 
Rich colors artistically blended 

That none who love beauty may scorn; 
And many will enter this temple 

To gaze on these fair works of art, 
These silent and eloquent sermons 

That reach through the eye to the heart. 

Though wondrously fair and attractive, 

'Tis not for its beauty alone, 
The Church of Saint Thomas is honored, 

Wherever its history is known ; 
0, no, it is Faith's priceless jewel, 

Well cherished through fifty long years, 
That now, on this Jubilee festal, 

In transcending glory appears. 

The edifice, richly embellished, 

Expresses a warm Celtic pride, 
A pardonable pride, in possessing 

The Faith for which many have died. 
How often their earnest petitions, 

Like incense from pure hearts arose, 
To Jesus in this tabernacle, 

The Source from which every grace flows. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 125 

That grace ever fell in abundance, 

And fell, upon rich, fruitful soil, 
Is proved by the many apostles 

Gone forth in God's vineyard to toil; 
Is proved by many brave women, 

"Who now, in the cloister employ 
Their time and their talent for Jesus — 

Yes, these are her pride and her joy. 

Strong sons of the Church of Saint Thomas, 

Brave daughters, who came here to pray 
As children, before this fair altar, 

We sing of your triumph today, 
But more than all others, we honor, — 

And you, with us, honor them, too, — 
The venerable fathers and mothers 

To whom our best tribute is due. 

To them, under God, we're indebted 

For that which their loyal hearts prized, 
The Faith, to defend which they gladly 

All worldly enticement despised, 
And, oh, let us cling to this heirloom 

Without which all men's works are dead, 
The Faith, which the Church of Saint Thomas 

Continues to strengthen and spread. 



126 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 



MOTHER'S FEAST DAY 

Hail the gladsome month of Mary, 
Fairest season of the year, 

Crowned with nature's priceless garlands- 
Hail the month to us so dear! 

Dear, because each fresh, fair tendril, 
And each fragrant blossom sweet 

That it brings us we may offer 
At our royal May Queen's feet. 

Dear, because with its fresh beauty 

Comes the holy festal tide 
Of Saint Pius, honored patron 

Of our faithful, loving guide. 

Of our more than guide — our mother, 
Who with ever watchful care 

Taught us, not alone to follow 
Mary as our model fair, 

But to love her with devotion 
That our hearts knew not before, 

And to place in her safekeeping 
All our interests evermore. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 127 

sweet Mary, Queen of Heaven, 
And our peerless Queen of May, 

Ask your Son to bless our mother 
With His richest gifts today ! 

Holy Pius, we implore you 

Who directed Peter's ark, 
Fearing neither storm nor darkness 

To protect her little barque. 

By your powerful intercession 

Calm the storms that may arise ; 
Guide her safely till she anchors 

On the shores of Paradise. 



128 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE CHRISTMAS PRAYER 

Christmas Eve in old Saint Leo's, 

Every arch was bathed in light, 
And around each marble pillar, 

Holly garlands glistened bright. 
Near the altar stood a grotto, 

White, with imitation snow, 
To portray again the story 

Told the shepherds long ago. 
Graceful angels hovering o'er it, 

Sang to listening hearts again, 
Tidings of great joy and glory — 

Praise to God and peace to men. 

Grouped around a lowly manger, 

Sparsely filled with matted straw, 
Mary, Joseph and the shepherds 

Gazed in reverence and awe 
On the figure of an Infant, 

With a most heart-winning face, 
And with outstretched arms, inviting 

All the world to His embrace. 
Just an image of the Infant 

Bethlehem would not receive, 
Drew a throng of Christians round Him 

On this happy Christmas Eve. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 129 

Close beside the sacred manger, 

Knelt a tearful little maid, 
Who unmindful of all others, 

Thus in baby accents prayed: 
"Dearest Jesus, please have mercy 

On my brother, Paul, tonight, 
For he is so dark and gloomy 

That our Christmas is not bright. 
Mother's heart is almost broken, 

And she sent me here to pray; 
Surely, you will not refuse me, 

If I ask with faith today. 

"Paul and Basil quarreled Sunday, — 

They were very angry then; 
Now I think that both are sorry, 

And would be good friends again. 
But you see, their friendship's broken, 

And it's hard to fix it now, 
Even though they want to do it, 

If You will not teach them how. 
Prince of Peace, please make them happy ! 

Fill their hearts with love again ! 
Make them better friends than ever, — 

Make them always friends. Amen." 

This "Amen" was echoed softly 

By one kneeling at her side, 
Who had sought the Christmas grotto, 

There to battle with his pride. 
Stooping down, he whispered to her ; 

"Little friend, your prayer is heard; 
I, today will make atonement 

That too long has been deferred. 
I have acted like a coward, 

For my pride had made me weak, 
But my heart was loyal to him, 

When my lips refused to speak." 



130 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

Never had this little maiden 

Dreamed of bliss that could surpass 
Joy like hers, when Paul and Basil 

Knelt with her at midnight Mass, 
To receive the true Messiah 

Who was born for them again, 
And the angels sang in heaven, 

Praise to God, and peace to men. 
Thus may every prayer be answered 

By the little Prince of Peace, 
Thus may love and Christian union 

In the hearts of men increase. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 131 



A JUBILEE GREETING 

Hail ! bright Day of the Assumption — 
Day of triumph and of grace! 

Sweet reminder that "Our Lady" 
Reigns now in her rightful place ; 

That the royal Queen of heaven, — 
Jesus' Mother and our own, — 

After all her weary waiting, 

Reached at last her destined throne ; 

And united to her loved Son, 
Nevermore from Him to part, 

Still with loving care she watches 
O'er the children of her heart. 

On this very day, dear Mother, 
Five and twenty years ago, 

Thou didst kneel before the altar, 
And, in tender accents low, 

Thou didst ask the Queen of Heaven 
To accept thee as her child, 

Thou didst give thy heart to Mary, — 
To our Virgin Mother mild ; 



132 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

And didst promise with her guidance 
Thou wouldst live with God alone, 

And thy holy Spouse, sweet Jesus, 
Came to claim thee as His own. 

All the tender words and blessings, 
That He whispered to thee then, 

Are repeated, dearest Mother, 
By the same sweet voice again. 

Yes, and words still more endearing 
He will whisper now to thee, 

And more lovingly He'll bless thee 
On thy "Silver Jubilee"; 

For the love thou then didst promise 
Has been proven, Mother dear, 

And thy Spouse has drawn thee nearer, 
Nearer to His heart each year. 

But thy loving Novice children 
Ask still greater joys for thee, 

And implore still richer blessings 
For thy "Silver Jubilee." 

May thy coming years, dear Mother, 
Be as happy as the past! 

May thy joys increase in Jesus, 
Every hour until the last ! — 

Every hour until "Our Lady" 
Leads thee to thy resting-place, 

And at last thy loving Jesus 
Clasps thee in His fond embrace. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 133 



WHERE THE RHODENDRON GROWS 



(Lines suggested by a visit to Buck Hill Palls.) 



Bright the day we spent together 

Over on the Poconos, 
In the land of sylvan beauty 

Where the rhododendron grows ; 
Where it blossoms down the valley 

And along the mountain height, 
In the shadow pink and pretty, 

In the sunlight pure and white ; 
Where it clings in every cranny 

Of the rocky, moss-grown walls, 
Over which in foamy splendor 

Dash the famous Buck Hill Falls. 

Fairest of the murmuring daughters 

Of the far-famed Poconos, 
Is the silvery stream that wanders 

Where the rhododendron grows, 
Just as placid as a mirror, 

Just as bright and just as clear, 
Is the cool refreshing water 

Of the beautiful Glenmere. 
How enticing, that fair inlet, 

With the great trees arching o'er, 
And the starry blossoms glistening 

All along the wooded shore ! 



134 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

There the beauty-loving dryads 

Come to seek their sweet repose 
In the land of floral splendor, 

Where the rhododendron grows, 
Undernearth the fern and laurel, 

Hiding in the deep ravine 
The anemone still lingered 

In a bed of mossy green. 
It had long outlived its season, — 

Herald of the spring time fair, — 
And it fain would live and linger 

With the rhododendron there. 

Who would not prolong existence 

Where that dreamy water flows? 
Who would not delight to linger 

Where the rhododendron grows? 
But more pleasant than the flowers 

Blooming in the woodland fair, 
Were the loyal friends who met us 

With a whole-souled welcome there. 
God reward their thoughtful kindness ! 

For the mem'ry of the day 
That they made so fair and perfect, 

Never more shall pass away. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 135 



CHOSEN 

I saw her only once a week, 
When with a winsome smile, 

She brought her offering to the sick 
And tarried for a while. 

Some books and magazines she brought 
And hoped that they would please 

A restless patient, or perhaps 
Some weary pain appease. 

I loved to meet that artless child, 

So womanly and fair, 
To look into her clear dark eyes 

And read of kindness there. 

Ay, kindness and a something else 
In those pure, earnest eyes, 

Told me the world had little claim 
On one so good and wise. 

I deemed she was a chosen soul, 

One destined to devote 
Her life to God, to live for Him, 

From all things else remote. 
11 



136 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 

Oh ! grieve not that she died so young- 
That she has gone to Him! 

And check the hot unbidden tears 
That our weak eyes bedim. 

Although I miss that sainted child — 
I miss her smile, her voice, 

Yet knowing that she is with God, 
My heart must still rejoice. 

I sympathize with those dear friends 
Who loved and knew her best, 

"Who mourn for her within the home 
That once her presence blessed. 

Their comfort is in knowing that 
Like Esther at the throne, 

Her people still are dear to her — 
She pleads for them, her own. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 137 



THE CRIMSON ROSE 

She plucked a crimson-hearted rose ; 

All dew-embalmed and sweet, 
And brought it to the silent shrine 

To place at Jesus' feet; 
And as the God of Love looked down 

Upon that gift so fair, 
His fond eye rested on the heart 

Of her who placed it there. 

What drew her from the sunlit lawn 

Where countless roses bloom, 
To that still shrine where one lone lamp 

Relieved the purple gloom? 
0, had she come as others come, 

Some selfish end to gain, 
To crave some boon or seek release 

From sorrow or from pain? 

Ah ! well He knew why she was there, 

In that old chapel dim, — 
Because the greatest joy she knew 

Was thus to be with Him ; 
And that pure, warm and tender heart, 

So utterly His own, 
Gave Him more joy than all the flowers 

That ever yet have grown. 



138 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



IMMORTAL GOLD 

Three brothers all of lowly birth, 

Reared in a humble home, 
In course of time were forced to part, 

In foreign lands to roam, 
But after many years had passed 

They chanced to meet again; 
Fraternal love still warmed their hearts 

'Though they were bearded men. 

They freely talked of how they spent 

The intervening years 
Since they in days long passed had shared 

Their boyish hopes and fears. 
The oldest said: "Rejoice with me! 

For I have wealth untold ; 
Where e'er I went, with restless heart, 

I sought and garnered gold." 

And one replied: "Pray pardon me, 

If I your wealth despise, 
For I have found rare human love — 

The gold that all men prize. 
I would not part one grain of this 

For aught that you can give; 
Despoiled of all things else on earth 

For this alone I'd live." 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 139 

The youngest bowed his tonsured head 

And murmured : "I have sought 
The gold of Love Divine, with which 

Eternal life is bought. 
Though you may live for human love, 

Believe me, brother mine, 
'Tis nobler, wiser, sweeter far, 

To die for Love Divine." 

O, you who read this little tale! 

Seek you the gold that buys 
Eternal life, and for its sake 

All baser wealth despise. 
For worldly riches pass away 

And human hearts grow cold, — 
In Love Divine alone you'll find 

The pure, immortal gold. 



140 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



TO HELEN 

Sweet the just reward of merit, — 

Tis a sweetness that endures, 
And God grant, my dearest Helen, 

That this just reward be yours. 
May no vain regrets, no sadness, 

Mar your glad Commencement Day, 
No forebodings, no misgivings 

But may all be bright, I pray. 

Though the past holds many mem'ries 

That are pleasant to recall, 
'Tis the pleasure you gave others 

That is sweetest of them all. 
If you would be happy ever, 

Keep the Golden Rule in mind, 
Be as you have been in school days, — 

Noble, generous and kind. 

God has blessed your earnest efforts 

In the struggle for the right, 
And the smile of His approval 

Floods your soul with peace tonight. 
You are going forth well armored 

For the battlefield of life, 
And I trust that you will never 

Fail nor falter in the strife. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 141 

Cherish still your high ideals, — 

It is not what we attain, 
But it is the pure intention 

That results in lasting gain. 
If your aims and your ideals 

With God's holy will accord, 
When the school of life is ended, 

He will be your great reward. 



142 IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 



THE BIRTHDAY ROSES 

'Twas a dark Good Friday morning 

That I heard a mother say : 
"Now I hope my little darling 

Will enjoy a glad birthday. 

"See, your kind papa has sent you 

All these Easter-lilies fair, 
And a garland of tea roses, 

For his precious child to wear." 

Then I looked upon the maiden 
Whom the mother thus addressed, 

And I noticed with amazement 
That she really seemed distressed. 

As she hurried to her mother, 
Kneeling humbly by her side, 

While the tears her eyes were dimming, 
Very pleadingly she cried: 

"0, I cannot wear the roses, 

Though they are so fresh and sweet ; 

Won't you lay them, dearest mother 
At the gentle Savior's feet? 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 143 

"For she cannot be a Christian 
Who with flowers her brow adorns, 

While the Queen of Heaven sorrows, 
And the King is crowned with thorns." 

Tenderly the mother answered, 

"They are yours, my little one, 
Give them to the Queen or Sorrows 

As an offering to her Son." 

This most loyal little subject, 

On the next Good Friday morn, 
Was recalled to that bright kingdom 

God had meant she should adorn, 

And the broken-hearted parents 

Silently knelt side by side, 
Mourning o'er the cold white figure, 

That had been their hope and pride. 

When her little friends assembled 

With their floral offerings fair, 
These good parents would not suffer, 

E'en a rose bud in her hair. 

Reverently the mother faltered, 

Struggling to keep back the tears, 
"Go, and give them to sweet Jesus, 

It will please her best, my dears, 



144 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

"For I seem to hear her spirit 
Whisper pleadingly and low, 

These sweet words I heard her utter, 
Only one short year ago : 

" 'Oh, I cannot wear the roses, 

Though they are so fresh and sweet 

Wont you lay them, dearest mother, 
At the gentle Savior's feet? 

" 'For she cannot be a Christian, 
Who with flowers her brow adorns, 

While the Queen of Heaven sorrows, 
And the King is crowned with thorns. 



» > ? 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 145 



THE GUIDING STAR 

The grand salon was lighted 
And garnished' for the ball, 

Hence three gallants were hastening, 
In gala costume all. 

But ere they reached the portal, 

They met a little maid 
Who cried: "All hail! good Magi, 

I'm coming to your aid. 

I went to Mass this morning 
And heard the sermon too— 

'Twas all about the Magi — 
And every word was true. 

And ever since I'm trying 

To be a guiding star, 
And lead the way to Jesus, — 

Come on, it isn't far." 

One who had read the Scriptures 

Was anxious for a lark, 
And answered : "I'm Balthassar, 

Behold my face so dark. 



146 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

With Melchior here and Gaspar, 
I've vainly searched all day, — 

Move on and we will follow 
Where you will lead the way." 

Then after this fair pilot 
They hastened down the street, 

Enjoying the amazement 

Of all they chanced to meet. 

They entered old St. Patrick's, 
Walked up the center aisle, 

The dark "Balthassar" wearing 
A gay and reckless smile. 

They knelt before the grotto, 
And lo ! a master hand 

Sent from the sweet-toned organ 
An anthem deep and grand. 

And to the dark "Balthassar," 
That was an hour of grace. 

The little maid in wonder 
Looked up into his face; 

She whispered, "You are happy, 
Tell Jesus that you are." 

And he replied, "You tell Him 
For me, my guiding star." 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 147 

The gift that only Jesus 

Has power to impart — 
The gift of Faith — was planted 

Within "Balthassar's" heart. 

Today he realizes 

What Faith's sweet lessons are, 
And gratefully he blesses 

His little "Guiding Star." 



148 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE SAINTS THAT I KNEW IN 
MY CHILDHOOD 

'Tis the saints that I knew in my childhood, 

Like the friends of my earliest days, 
Whose sweet names I now love to hear spoken, 

On whose pictures in rapture I gaze; 
For as far as my memory reaches, 

Looking back o'er the vista of years, 
They have known all my cares and my sorrows, 

They have shared all my hopes and my fears. 
Who was first to be loved? Do you ask it? 

Ah! that Trio so sacredly dear, 
It was Jesus and Mary and Joseph, 

I was taught in the crib to revere. 

And the next that I knew was St. Martin. 

With a love that will ever endure, 
I still think of the brave soldier-bishop, 

The true friend of the weak and the poor. 
Then the beautiful Flower of Lima, 

Our own fair American Rose, 
Whose sweet picture from infancy charmed me, 

Was the first loving patron I chose. 
Then came Ann, the dear mother of Mary, 

Whose sweet mission I love to recall ; 
St. Elizabeth too and the Baptist, 

And then Magdalen, dear to us all. 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 149 

I have sympathized oft with St. Peter, 

I have envied the fortunate John, 
And have asked him to whisper my wishes 

To the Heart that his head rested on. 
Though I loved every faithful Apostle 

"With a tender devotion, 'twas Paul, 
The most earnest, strong friend of the Gentiles, 

Who appealed to my heart most of all. 
I was fond of Hibernian stories, 

And the virtues and glories combined 
Of Saints Oolumb'kill, Patrick and Brigid 

Were most firmly impressed on my mind. 

St. Christopher too was a favorite, 

Saints Alphonsus and Xavier so dear, 
And fond Bernard whose sweet "Memorare" 

Our dear Mother must graciously hear. 
Then thrice daily the Angelus told me 

Of St. Gabriel's message of grace, 
And beside him another bright angel, 

Great St. Michael holds ever his place. 
Good St. Benedict's medal was valued, 

As the rarest of treasures by all, 
And St. Blase and St. Roch were physicians 

Ever ready to answer our call. 

Gentle Anges and dear Aloysius, 

Our St. Nicholas of Yuletide renown, 
Sweet St. Lucy and Mary of Egypt, 

And St. Anthony, Padua's crown, 
Dear Teresa and sweet-voiced Cecilia, 

Great St. Thomas, the Doctor divine, 
St. Augustine and Monica patient, — 

All these have been old friends of mine. 
And when we through their fond intercession 

In the home of our Father find rest, 
Among all the bright concourse, I'll still love 

The dear saints of my childhood the best. 



150 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



NORINE 

'Twas from Kilkenny Norine came 

A hundred years ago, 
And Norine was as fair a girl 

As any that I know. 
Her wavy hair was golden brown, 

Her eyes were Irish blue, 
Her cheeks were just as pink and fresh 

As rosebuds moist with dew. 
And, 0, she wore the sweetest smile 

That ever yet was seen ! 
How old Kilkenny must have grieved 

The day she lost Norine ! 

Her picture still hangs in the hall, 

'Tis in an old, old frame, 
And underneath the portrait there 

Is written Norine 's name. 
Long have I stood and gazed upon 

That fair and winsome face, 
Still vainly striving to define 

Its lines of matchless grace. 
Are they the features of a saint, 

Or of an earthly queen? 
And oh ! where is the soul today, 

Of beautiful Norine? 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 151 

A hundred years ago she was 

Kilkenny's joy and pride, 
And half a hundred years ago, 

They tell me Norine died. 
The Lord have mercy on her soul ! 

Grant her eternal rest ! 
May she and all she loved on earth, 

Be numbered with the blest. 
When I am gone may some kind friend, 

Still keep my mem 'ry green ; 
May others pray for me, as I 

Now pray for sweet Norine. 



12 



152 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE DOCTOR'S STORY 

You say you like her picture, child, and you would like to 
know 

A little more about the girl I loved so long ago. 
Although it is a prosy tale, and egotistic too. 

It may be worth repeating for each word of it is true. 
You ask me if she was my friend, this girl with golden hair : 

Ah! she was even more than that> — my guardian angel 
fair. 
She taught in District Number Nine some sixty years ago, 

Then I was nearly twelve years old, as you already know ; 
And sad to say, of all bad boys who seemed disposed to try 

His best to break a teacher 's heart, the very worst was I. 
Reared in an atmosphere of crime, without a mother's care, 

The character that I had formed would make a saint 
despair. 
What wonder that good Dr. Field's kind-hearted little wife 

Considered me her greatest cross — the worry of her life ; 
And that the Doctor sighed to find the orphan boy so bad, 

Whom he adopted just because he seemed a "likely lad." 
What wonder Alice Rose found me a trouble in her school, 

For I had little love for books, and no respect for rule. 
Yes, I was rude and unrefined — unkind in every way ; 

Reproofs and punishments were vain, I grew worse day 
by day. 
The kindly interference of the zealous David Prune 

Brought matters to a crisis on an autumn afternoon. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 153 

Soon after school had been dismissed, a classmate said to 
me: 

"The school director has gone in to settle your decree; 
I met him in the vestibule as I was coming out. 

That he intends to try your case, I've not the slightest 
doubt." 
He was the school director who had charge of Number Nine, 

And I believed that Mr. Prune was not a friend of mine. 
Through curiosity to learn what he might mean to do 

I turned about and hastened back to hear the interview. 
I stole into the vestibule, crouched down upon the floor, 

Without the slightest scruple placed my ear close to the 
door ; 
And then was verified the truth, that he who listens, hears 

But little good about himself to please his eager ears. 
In terms uncomplimentary good David Prune portrayed 

The odious propensities that I too well displayd. 
He said I was a vicious boy — a menace to the school. 

And that I never could be made conform to any rule. 

He questioned Dr. Field's good taste — the teacher's common 

sense; 
And said if I were kept around, he feared the conse- 
quence. 
When Alice Rose said timidly: "I know that he is bad, 

And yet I cannot close my heart against an orphan lad, ' ' 
He answered : ' ' But do you not know that as a general rule, 

A character like that is apt to ruin all the school ? 
We never should let sentiment influence us too far, 

Nor let the unsound fruit remain where wholesome apples 
are." 
Lio ! the reply : ' ' Although I own the truth of what you say, 
My heart repels the cruel thought of sending him away. 



154 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Give him another trial, please, — I really like the boy, 

He never had advantages that children here enjoy." 
Bad as I was, this tender plea broke through my calloused 
heart, 
My hands began to tremble and I felt the tear-drops start 
I rushed into the room and fell before her on my knees, 
And cried: "I heard it all, Miss Rose! Forgive, forgive 
me, please! 
"Though there is not another soul so wicked on this earth, 
If you believe I can amend, I'll try for all I'm worth." 
Then David Prune looked grave and said : "It really seems 
absurd 
For one to make a promise who has never kept his word. 
However, if you are retained, you are not to suppose 
That I place confidence in you, — 'tis done to please Miss 
Rose." 
His farewell compliment was this: "If I hear any more 
Of your rascality, I'll come and march you out that 
door. ' ' 
When I was left with Alice Rose, I cried and she cried, too ; 
But God's good angels must have smiled who heard that 
interview. 
At length she dried her eyes and said: "To prove you are 
sincere, 
Just take this little story book and read it all through, 
dear." 
The volume that she gave me then still rests upon my 
heart — 
A talisman from which e'en now I should not dare to 
part. 
The story of two lives it is — one good, the other bad — 
A story that has saved the soul of many a wilful lad, 



IDYLS OP LAKESIDE 155 

The villain in a prison dies without a kind 1 friend by, 

As David Prune that day declared that I deserved to die. 
The hero dies lamented by the wayward ones he saved, 
And hopeful of a just reward for weary trials braved. 
This hero I adopted as the model of my life, 

And though at first it proved to be a very bitter strife, 
For O, those early habits were so very hard to cure— 

The fear of disappointing her made my weak strength 
endure. 
And though I failed and failed again, she was my faithful 
friend — 
Thank God ! with such encouragement I conquered in 
the end. 
Good Dr. Field — may God reward his great benevolence — 

Resolved to educate me quite regardless of expense. 
With jealous care he guarded every honor that I won, 

And his dear wife grew rather proud of her adopted son. 
And when at length an M. D. had been added to my name, 
With kind words of encouragement the good old neigh- 
bors came 
And asked me to locate at home: "You see, we'd just as 
soon 
Give you a chance to poison us," quoth honest David 
Prune. 
But she came not, for she had gone to claim her heavenly 
crown, 

And I believe from that bright home her kind eyes still 
look down 
Upon the wayward boy she saved— and oh! I trust she 
knows 
That next to God and Heaven's Queen, I honor Alice 
Rose. 



156 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 



THE BETTER PART 

God speed you, my darling, along the bright way! 

The way you are turning with glad heart today. 
We dare not detain you, but rather rejoice 

Because you are claimed by your heart's holy choice; 
Because you are leaving us gladly for Him — 

O, weak is the eye that a tear could bedim! 
And selfish the heart that would mix the alloy 

Of grief with the gold of your soul's sacred joy. 
Away then with grief so untimely — away ! 

No tears shall be shed on this holiest day. 
Let only glad faces be seen at the side 

Of her whom the Savior has claimed as His bride. 
Your trust has been placed in an unchanging Heart, 

And none shall take from you the sweet ' ' better part. ' ' 
Oh ! the joy of this day is not your joy alone, 

For He too rejoices to call you His own. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 157 



CHRISTMAS GREETING 

The Christmas bells are ringing 

In merry cadence, sweet, 
Angelic Choirs are singing 

"While we their hymns repeat. 

The chorus softly swelling, 
Is "Peace on Earth to men"; 

How tenderly 'tis telling 
The story once again. 

The Christians of each nation 

Are all united now, 
And in deep adoration 

Before the manger bow. 

Amid this joy and splendor, 
Dear Mother, kind and true, 

Your grateful children tender 
This greeting song to you. 

Your thoughtful heart has never 
O'erlooked our smallest need; 

You 've proved a mother ever, 
In thought, in word and deed. 



158 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

We might express our feeling, 
Were words less cold and weak; 

But by the Manger kneeling, 
Our hearts for you will speak. 

Because we feel He sees us, 
And knows all we would say, 

So to our own dear Jesus, 
For your success we pray. 

And when we are addressing 
The Holy Infant sweet, 

We '11 ask for every blessing, 
To make your life complete. 

But more than any other, 
We pray that He will bless 

You, dear, beloved Mother, 
With health and happiness. 

And surely He must hear us, 

As fervently we pray, 
Because He seems so near us, 

This holy Christmas Day. 

Our filial rights reserving, 
We ask of you one prayer, 

That we may prove deserving 
Of all your love and care. 

Yes, pray that grace be given 
To us, so that we may 

Enjoy with you in heaven, 
"An endless Christmas Day." 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 159 



THE FRIENDSVILLE FOLK 

The Friendsville folk are wont to joke 

In ways the most unique ; 
To hear their boasts of local ghosts 

Would make some people weak. 

They tell such tales of hills and dales 

That girt their native town, 
You'd understand it was a land 

Of wonder and renown. 

Enchanted lakes hid in the brakes, 
These Friendsville folk would praise; 

Their pictures drawn of Fairy Lawn 
Would make one dream of fays. 

Ghost Hollow drear, they said was near 

The dear old Haunted Bridge, 
The Pine Wood dark, where ghost dogs bark. 

Was just across the ridge. 

The Wolf Road too was there, 'tis true, 

The Deer-lick on the hill, 
The Bear Swamp gray, and off that way 

The famous Haunted Mill. 



12* 



160 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Such talk you see, affected me 

Until at last I thought 
A trip out there, I'd really dare, 

Where wonders might be wrought. 

And so I went, my mind intent 

On seeing ghosts and fays, 
And great bears prowl, and wild wolves growl 

In weirdly haunted ways. 

The place I found and walked around 
Enchanted lakes and streams; 

I walked at night, but saw no sprite — 
Alas ! for all my dreams ! 

At early dawn, through Fairy Lawn 

I passed but met no fay; 
The Haunted Mill beneath the hill 

Was ghostless night and day. 

I saw no bear, no wolf out there, 

Nor e'en a graceful deer; 
Ghost Hollow too, I wandered through, 

But nothing did appear. 

The Friendsville Folk enjoyed the joke, 

And said they did not mean 
By word or deed to thus mislead 

Regarding any scene. 

Of course I knew 'twas partly true, — 

They were not all to blame ; 
I also know that this is so : 

THERE'S NOTHING IN A NAME. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 161 



FATHER TABB 

A strain of mournful pathos 

Sweeps o'er the southern land, 
A strain that finds an echo 

On ev'ry foreign strand. 
The lonely dirge is telling 

A holy voice is stilled 
That with the sweetest music 

This land of ours has filled. 

The poet-priest whose genius 

Has made our cold hearts glow, 
Who has revealed the secrets 

That saints and angels know ; 
With tenderness unequaled, 

With sweetness unsurpassed, 
He woke rare strains of music 

That shall forever last. 

The melodies he wakened 
Shall never die away, — 

They must live on forever 
Love's message to convey^ 

For love of God and nature 
Has made his name renowned, 

In his great heart a welcome 
All creatures ever found. 



162 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

Oh ! he was more than poet, 

More than a faithful friend — 
A priest sincere and saintly 

Until the very end. 
Tis well that he has taught us 

To look above the clod — 
That death is the beginning 

Of endless life with God. 

'Tis well our Faith assures us 

That now he sees the light, 
Who still sang on serenely 

When darkness veiled his sight. 
0, were the hearts less selfish 

That miss his hopeful voice, 
They might forget their sorrow 

And at his lot rejoice. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 163 



THE MOTHERS PRAYER 

The feast of the Ascension 

Was drawing to a close; 
Beyond the placid ocean 

The day-star sought repose. 

Its slanting rays still lingered 
On one who walked the strand, 

With prayerful lips recounting 
The chaplet in her hand. 

She prayed for one long absent, 

A wayward only son, 
Whom, from this tender mother, 

The world and wine had won. 

Like Monica she sorrowed 
Through many weary years; 

Like Monica she pleaded 
And shed most bitter tears. 

But now the glowing sunset, 
And waters golden bright. 

Brought to this soul of sorrow 
Some rays of hopeful light. 



164 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

A playful dove was fluttering 
Above her snowy head, 

A timid loving creature 
Which she had dailv fed ; 



And circling low and lower, 
It swept from out her hand 

The little silver chaplet 
And dashed it on the sand. 



This act inspired the mother 

To seek an angel's aid, 
And as she clasped her chaplet, 

With hopeful heart she prayed : 

"0 God-appointed spirit, 
Blest guardian of my boy! 

Sweep from his hand in mercy 
The cup that mars my joy. 

"You love the Queen of angels, — 
Then for her sake and mine, 

Bring back to true repentance 
That wayward charge of thine." 

The feast of the Ascension 
Had darkened into night, 

But one imposing mansion 
Was radiant with light. 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 165 

Its banquet hall was crowded 

With men in martial gear, 
With lion-hearted warriors 

Who scorned the thought of fear. 

And toast, and jest, and laughter, 

And strain of merry song, 
Proclaimed good will existing 

In that congenial throng: 

But wine was flowing freely — 

The deadly, subtle foe 
Of all that's good and noble, 

The harbinger of woe. 

Sir Robert's crystal goblet 

Was sparkling to the brim, 
And many braves were eager 

To drink a toast with him; 

For Robert was a favorite, 

The Lion of the day, 
The gayest at the banquet, 

The bravest in the fray. 

Sir Robert's friends were many, 

His enemies were few, 
Although of home forgetful, 

And to his God untrue. 



166 IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 

"Good friends, we've toasted many,' 
A manly voice exclaimed, 

"But one whose heart is truest, 
As yet has not been named : 

"She whom all nations honor — 
'Tis Mother, man's best friend, 

Whose love is most unselfish, 
Who loves until the end." 

A hundred brimming glasses 
Were raised with one accord, 

When lo ! Sir Robert 's goblet 
Crashed down upon the board. 

The wine streamed o'er the marble, 
The damask cloth was stained, 

And yet, the fragile goblet 
Uninjured still remained. 

The host exclaimed: "What magic 
Is this, good friend of mine ? 

Do angels guard the crystal 
When you upset the wine? 

That goblet is an heirloom, 
And one I value much — 

But fill again, I'm waiting 

My glass with yours to touch." 



IDYLS OF LAKESIDE 167 

All eyes were on Sir Robert, 

His face was strangely white, 
Yet firm the voice that answered : 

"I'll drink no more tonight! 



"And comrades, I assure you, 
Though strong is this right hand, 

The power to hold that goblet 
Is not at my command." 

These friends now miss Sir Robert 
In battle and at feast— 

We find him at the altar, 
A loyal, zealous priest. 



PEC ' 



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